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Hey it’s Chris, I’m hoping to send you an email Friday with a free book, but I’m waiting on some work to get back to me. Until then, I had an AUDIBLE book go live, so if you are in US or UK, send me an email and I’ll send you a code to grab a copy! EPOCH- The Future Templar is out on audiobook today. Will he save the world or rule it? A warrior from the past is ripped into a future he doesn’t understand. The scientists wanted his ethics and wisdom in a world gone mad. But did they invite a monster? Grab it today, and if you haven’t picked up the book, hang tight cause I’ll have a new ebook copy for you soon. On some more good news front: I made a first round cut to be in a big sci fi anthology, which makes me super stoked for two reasons. It would be great if I made it, because it means exposure.  But if I don’t, then I’ll have a brand new, never seen before story in JUNE for you guys to check out. Plus the new AREA 51 series coming, and more books in BZ series. Basically, May i...

How important is a Hook? What if 5 little words could make you $4 a day over and over again? Maybe that’s too much to ask, but I made one little change to my blurb and it gave me $4 more dollars on a book in one day. Yesterday. Alright, I can hear you argue that 1 day does not a data point make, but this title was book 11 in a series AND was lost in the visibility chart. I know why this happens. (from data) But having refreshed the first series box set, I wanted to make sure readers carried on. All I did was add a hook to the front of the blurb and bold it. That’s it. A hook is a tagline designed to entice a reader. You know how they work from movies- my favorite is from alien. “In Space, no one can hear you scream.” How about from Dumb and Dumber? “For Lloyd and Harry, every day is a no-brainer.” There are tons of examples you can use, but the thing you need to remember is that you have to hook your reader fast. A lot of b...

There was an even dozen of us, so far as I knew.   Groups of three scattered around the country, ready to deploy or defend, or so the legends went.   I had four in my “class” as it were.         New York.   California.   Washington.   Florida.   Three persons assigned to each region.   Mine was Florida.         I was born for the tropics.         Humidity never bothered me.   Where some people shut down in hot weather, I just got better.   That may come off as conceited, but I worked hard to supplement it with a self deprecating sense of humor.         Trust me, I was the funny one. An aptitude for solitude.   It was a nice way of saying something sad.   Well, sad by conventional standards or by the norms of society, but not so sad to me. To be honest, I take comfort in knowin...

It’s a given that men in our line of work are stupid to have children.   In one of life’s cruel mysteries, we also seem more fertile than normal men. If a scientist chose to study it, they would probably determine it has something to do with excess testosterone.         But the ex-Russian spy sitting across from me just admitted he had a child and that was leverage we just don’t share.   Ever.         “Five minutes,” I told him.         “Three,” he said as he glanced at Holley, AD and Kinzey.   His lip curled up in a hint of a smile, and I answered with the ghost of a grin of my own.         “An older girl, then twin boys, then another girl.   Someone has taken my oldest,” he reached into his brown leather coat and snorted as I tensed up.”         He pulled a new manila folder...

        The Comfort Suites in West Little Rock should have been safe.   I booked a room under an alias that took six weeks to build, so it was too soon to be on anyone’s radar, in case thy were looking, and seasoned enough to pass scrutiny.         I flew into Bentonville on a regional airline, one of the smaller airbuses and rented a car under another AKA.         My head was shorn to a buzz, and I was twenty pounds lighter, lost through running and diet.   All in all I should have been unrecognizable and hard as hell to follow.   So I was beyond shocked when the Russian walked in.         The kids were playing in the water area, I had a pen and a notepad, but no firearm.   In hindsight, that was stupid.   Even something as innocent as watching my children play required constant vigilance.   It was one of th...

CHAPTER Miguel Salazar sat inside the mosquito netting and cursed the microscopic swarm of gnats that had gained entry. He was sure they had come inside only to torment him as a punishment for his participation in this sinful endeavor. That is what his mother would call it. A sin. And the insects that buzzed his ears and bit his exposed skin in tiny annoying pricks of discomfort was his punishment. Miguel was sure it was slowly driving him mad. The infernal buzzing, the heat which he should be used to but still felt baking to him and the dust in the air. It clung like a haze under the warming lamps, a fog of raw powder trapped inside the tent. All of the workers wore masks. Miguel was supposed to have one on too, but his breath against the fabric made him even hotter. And it stank. He couldn’t stand the smell of himself, so he pulled the mask down around his neck. Which presented a new problem. Hallucinations and rapid heartra...

FIRETEAM - a sci fi adventure "We think the Chinese had help." "I don't got nothing against the Chinese," said Dink. "Matter of fact, I'm a big fan of their food. Kung Pao chicken sounds pretty good right now." "Quit the tough guy act Pliskin," Colonel Gage growled. "It won't work on me." "I'm not a tough guy Colonel. That s just my face." Gage stepped away from the gray door and pointed to the wire inset in the tiny square window. Piggish eyes squinted through the metal grid, glaring at Dink. "See that?" Gage grinned. Dink shivered  "That is one fonking ugly motherfucker," he shimmied in the metal chair. The legs scratched against the bare concrete floor. "That s just his face," said Gage, glee dripping in his gravelly voice. "And the rest of it is ugly, I can assure you. Right now, that face wants nothing more to be doing what I tell ...

"Are we there yet?" Dawson lifted one tired foot off the sand and set it forward again. "The more you talk," he wheezed.   "The more air you waste." "I signed up.   To fly.   Not to march." Columbus reached down the air canister he had strapped to his leg and adjusted the flow, filling his suit with oxygen. He sucked in three giant breaths. Anne stepped up beside him and cranked it back down. "Less talking. More walking," she said and passed him. Columbus grunted and fell in step behind her.   The blast of air helped. Already the stars in his vision were clearing away and he could feel his ability to think returning. They were still twenty kilometres away and the sun was turning the sky behind them into a line of harsh light.   Soon the sun would top the horizon and spin across the face of the heavens.   The pale glow of starlight was being washed out with growing light but it made walking even harder as the shadows ...

    With no engines running, the silence of space leaks past the thick re enforced bulkheads that separate a pocket of air from the vacuum.   The quiet permeates the recycled air, clinging to the skin like dew on a grass blade, a memory from back home.     Inside, one can imagine the pinpricks of starlight slice through the emptiness, casting a pale white illumination across the dull gunmetal hull of a cigar shaped cylinder, a lifepod.   The lifepod is a twenty foot long, twelve foot wide sealed compartment, a safe haven in the harsh environment of space when all else is lost on a space station, or moon colony.   Lifepods are the last resort in any emergency, an all hope is lost, abandon ship and hope they hear the SOS place to wait for pick up.     What they lack in design, they make up in Spartan utility.   Primitive maneuvering with air propulsion engines, used for simple course correction.   Communica...