Remember High School

You’ll laugh. You’ll cry. When is a high school not just a high school? My book called The High School is one of the books in the Molly McGuire mystery series. While working for the FBI, her team goes undercover in a small midwest town. She poses as a gym teacher and girl’s swim coach at the local high school. They soon discover that more than algebra classes are taking place in the old high school. The deeper the investigation goes, the more amazed they are about the depth of the corruption.

Ever wonder what went on in the principal’s office after most everyone went home? Why did the lights burn until after midnight? Did the principal really need a large sofa in his office? In your mind, go back to your high school days and remember. Were there times when it seemed that things were not quite right? Was there more going on than what appeared on the surface?

When you read this keep in mind that I have a tremendous imagination so even in high school I made up stories in my head about the faculty and administration of my high school. My stories were much more interesting than real life.

I hope you‘re laughing by now because if I recall most teenagers would not have even noticed, but I’m not saying it didn’t happen and possibly still does. Once upon a time I was a young attractive teacher and the propositions were numerous from all ages of men at my school. Even some remarks from the student’s fathers were not too subtle with their innuendos. I had no problem handling them and defusing the situations back then but some women might have.

coverSome of you may ask, ‘Why don’t they report this kind of harassment?’ You’re kidding right? Report to whom, when it’s the guy in charge doing it. Most young women like their job. I write this book because I have heard story after story as a therapist like some of these in the book. I’m hoping times have changed since my time.

Even though part of the theme of the book is serious, the humor in the story helps us to see how laughing can keep this darker side of human nature from destroying those who deal with it. Not all principals are like the one in the story nor does all charity come with a price, but we need to not forget that some does.

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A Dream Job That’s a Nightmare

Meet Molly McGuire, who discovers that life can have many twists and turns when she gets hired as an events planner at an exclusive all men’s spa in southern Arizona. Her brilliant mind and keen intuitive sense helps her to realize early on that it is not all fun and frolic at this remote mountain retreat.

There are many copper mines in Arizona which once flourished and supported the towns where this story takes place. The tunnels are still there hidden inside the mountains, although in most no mining is taking place. I had an opportunity to tour one of these mines. It was a bit surreal as they drove us through layers of tunnels. You could almost hear the hammers hitting the stone walls when you closed your eyes. Being down there truly felt like I was in an underground city.

coverIt was that experience that stimulated me to use a copper mine for the setting of my book, The Spa. What if even now these underground cities were being used by drug cartels or human traffickers from which to run their business. Jesse James used caves as hideouts so why couldn’t modern day bandits use old mine tunnels?

Also, what better way to camouflage an illicit business than through a spa? Unless of course if you hire Molly to work for you. Let your imagination reel as you experience her adventure at this remote resort.

Download The Spa today from

The Pulpit

Change Who We Are

“We can’t help who we were born to, but we sure the hell can help what we become.”  (A quote from a character in The Pulpit)

coverWe can’t change who our family is. We can only change who we are. Not everyone was born into the ideal Leave it to Beaver family. Such is the case with the evangelist in my book The Pulpit. Declaring to avenge his mother’s and sister’s deaths by the hands of his perverted father and Baptist preacher uncle, he finds that the shame of his family prevents him from feeling worthy of a healthy relationship himself.

From his pulpit Brother Billy spreads seeds of love which blossom and bloom as his rescue homes grow and become Beacons of Light. Like Billy many of us have doubted that what we are doing to help get rid of horrific disease in this country is hopelessly ineffective.

When courts and churches blame the woman or girl for her abuse especially when she tries to fight back, we should feel alarmed. When the president of our own country gets sympathy as he uses his power to take advantage of a woman who works for him, we should yell from the roof tops … NO MORE.

This story is written from a man’s view when he was not only the victim of abuse but also suffered the loss of his female loved ones to rape and death. This is a disease that touches everyone.

For a tender, heart warming story with adventure, mystery and thought provoking ideas, Download The Pulpit on Amazon .com

Also check out the Beneath and Beyond series

The Sara Connolly series

The Mystic Marvel series

The 2016 Book of the Month series


The Pulpit

Sneak Preview of The Pulpit

Below is a sneak preview of the soon to be released book, The Pulpit. When I started this book I had some strong preconceived ideas about evangelists. Where I grew up there were tent revivals and traveling preachers and most of them were eventually caught for fraud or with their pants down or something worse.

coverAs the story developed the main character, Brother Billy took on a different persona altogether. It’s a tender love story on the surface, but look deeper and you’ll find a lesson or two about who we are right now not who we came from is what’s truly important.

………… The Pulpit

PRAISE THE LORD,” they shouted back.
“Sally Mae, come up here and lead us all in a song to praise the Lord.”
The young gorgeous blond women from the choir proudly stood next to her idol. He put his arm around her and pulled her to him as the music started. They swayed as she sang into the microphone.

“Everyone put your arms around your neighbors and let God’s love come through you. Hold each other tight and show your love. PRAISE THE LORD.” he yelled.

Sally Mae continued to lead the song. Another member of the choir came up and stood on the other side of Brother Billy. He wrapped his other arm around Amy Jo. He nodded toward the choir and one by one each young woman made their way into the audience taking a place next to a man. They smiled at the man whose arm they were holding Most of them knew that he had a full view of her breasts as her scooped neck choir gown slide lower on one shoulder.

Brother Billy laughed to himself as the swaying continued. “Hallelujah. Feel God’s love.” He nodded at a group of big muscular men standing on either side of the tent. They each squeezed in next to a women and wrapped a strong arm around her making certain that their large hands were nestled around their waists. They all continued to sway as Sally Mae sang of love.

It was all quite moving as Brother Billy let the tears roll down his cheeks when he told his followers how humble he felt in the presence of God. “I feel filled to the brim with God’s love, but not everyone does. Some folks are empty and need our help. Look out on the street. Some poor souls have lost their way. We need to share our abundance so that they may feel what we feel right now. There are young girls who are in homes, pregnant from being raped and abused by men who claim to love them as fathers, cousins or reverends.”

“They need our help. Our ministry with your generous contributions is helping these lost ones. Their babies are being placed in loving homes and the women’s care is being tended to, so that they again may become healthy both physically and mentally … so that they are no longer emotionally empty. So that they are no longer spiritually empty.

Later at his ranch

“Billy,” Maureen began, “This is my smart and beautiful niece Caroline. Caroline this is Billy Carter.” She totally ignored Caroline’s boyfriend in the introduction.

Caroline glared at her aunt. This is my boyfriend Gregory Westchester. Gregory is getting his MBA at UT.

Billy shook his hand. “Billy Carter, nice to meet you and welcome to my home.”

“This is quite a spread. You inherit this from some rich relative. I don’t imagine you make much going around preaching in tents. Not enough to afford something like this.”

Billy smiled. Oh yeah this is going to be a fun weekend. “Actually Greg, everything I have I made myself. I got no handouts. Darcy’s of Boston right? That was your mother’s family name? If my American history serves me right and I believe it does, they made their big money in bootlegging during prohibition. Don’t you love the Internet?”

Watch for the release around May 25.

DNA Memories

Who are your ancestors? Long before, my grandmother was researching her ancestry. What she found ranged from ‘they came over on the Mayflower’ to the role models for Steinbeck’s characters in Grapes of Wrath. She even found a few Cherokees mixed in there. Oh yeah, I can’t forget being the 8th cousin to President Grover Cleveland.

Many of my relatives weren’t necessarily pleased that Grandma was digging up some of this information from the past. What I thought was colorful others thought shameful. These past experiences is what gave me the inspiration for my new book, The Canary.

For me this book was really fun to write and hopefully for you as much fun to read. It has two primary characters who lived more than a hundred years apart. History repeats itself again and again as Zoe hears the tale of her great, great,great grandmother, Annabelle. Will Zoe’s fate have the same solution and outcome as her renowned ancestors did.? Is there really such a thing as DNA memory which transcends generations? Could be.

coverBoth women, modern day Zoe and 19th century Annabelle, believe that dreams are meant to come true so with some cunningness and hard work both women set out to make them happen, often against tremendous odds.

How many of you have ever had an experience where the wind blew in your face and you felt that you could fly? As a teenager I had a horse named Big Red. When times were troubling, actually when aren’t they for a teenager, I would get on Big Red and whisper to him, ‘Let’s make like the wind.’ He would take off across a field and I would feel one with that huge horse as well as the wind.

When you read The Canary, remember those special times in your life and relive them along with Zoe. They may be different experiences in detail, but the feelings will be the same.

By sharing those experiences, you will help others to remember. Let’s hear from you.

Download The Canary at
The book The Canary is also available on Kindle Unlimited and Kindle Owners’ Lending Library.

December’s Book: A Collection of Mystical Marvels Mysteries
January’s Book: The Commune
February’s Book: The Club
March’s Book: The Library

Our Ancestor’s Blood

the canaryEver wonder if you inherited more than eye color from your ancestors? Growing up I was constantly compared to both dead and alive relatives in looks and temperament. You’re just like your grandmother, was often said to me, the words dripping with disgust. It just so happened that I really liked that grandmother and we had a similar relationship as Zoe and her grandmother Ellie have in my book The Canary.

Here is an excerpt from that book which will be released soon:

The Canary

I feel her presence. It’s as though her mind and mine are connected. I smell the dust of the road as the horse’s trotting hooves stir it into the air that I breath. The maleness of the driver of the wagon wafts over me. His love envelops me. This is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with.

His dark hair, blue eyes and slight Irish brogue mesmerize me. I know nothing about breeding horses for it is his love and dream not mine, but I know about how to acquire the means for him to fulfill his dream. And that I will do so that our grandchildren and their grandchildren’s children and so on for generations to come will enjoy the land and the legacy that I have helped to make their heritage.

With our blood running through their veins, they will build their own dreams on the foundation of what we have begun.


She found her oldest granddaughter, Zoe, in the study of the huge log home that she had lived in, on and off for most of her life. Zoe sat in the large leather chair facing the stone fireplace. Her eyes were focused on a painting of her great, great, great grandmother, Annabelle. So strong was her concentration that she hadn’t even heard her grandmother, Eleanor speak when she called her name.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were talking to her, the way you’re smiling.”

“I believe her spirit was talking to me,” Zoe whispered.

“Grandma, when are you going to tell me the story about her? I want the real story, not what you can read on the Internet. You said that you would tell me someday. I think that day is today. It’s just you and me all week. Mother and father won’t be here and neither will my sister.”

Eleanor smiled at her.

“You have the same smile she had, grandma. Do I have that smile?”

“Yes you do and you have her same gorgeous looks and natural music abilities as well.”

“Mother and father said I should not mention her while their snooty friends are around, but I want to know where I came from. I want to know how she became one of the richest and most influential women in California in the 1800s. I want to know the real story.”

“And you have a right to know it. Where shall I begin?” Eleanor said as she sat in the other leather chair facing Annabelle’s painting.

Ellie smiled at her seventeen year old granddaughter and then began speaking as though she was being given the words from the lady in the painting herself. “She was about your age when she was sent by her mother to the city to visit with her aunt Dottie. Her name was Annabelle and she was my great great grandmother. Her story is sad but she would say to the contrary. She lived with her parents Chester and Sara Ford in a small village of log cabins, which were common for families of lumberjacks in the northwest.


“This is the horse that won The National for me. The one that had his way with Tilly’s mother. So it’s not surprising that she beat all of Ryan’s horses in a race. It’s in her blood but she’s not papered.”

“She’s kind of like I am,” Zoe said. “She comes from what society calls a whore, but has the talent, intelligence and drive of royalty.”

A Library Without Books

Ever wonder what happens to old libraries in small towns when they are no longer useful or not worth the cost to stay open? When the Internet literally puts them out of business and they are too much of a drain on the taxpayers’ budget? In a company owned town like Blessing where everyone’s livelihood depends on revenue from the one and only employer, the library building is used for something other than books, sometimes sinister things.

Such is the case
in my book titled The Library. The Zilly Pharmaceutical company owns the remote desert town of Blessing, every store, every restaurant, every house and all the recreational facilities, even the bottled water plant. It’s a paradise. Then how is it that a whole other sinister life lurks beneath the old historic Blessing library?

Where I used to live in Colorado, there was such a company owned town. The company who owned it had long since moved, but the tales of what it was like in the early days are still shared. The existence and stories of that town is what inspired the setting of my book, The Library.

We would love to hear about old historic buildings in your town or towns that were built and owned by companies at one time.

For an action filled, fast moving read:

Download The Library at

The book The Library is also available on Kindle Unlimited and Kindle Owners’ Lending Library

Other Books of the Month

December’s Book: A Collection of Mystical Marvels Mysteries

January’s Book: The Commune

February’s Book: The Club