HARD BOILED HEADLINE
A completed 63,000 word suspense/humor novel
A gang of unusual newspaper men, take a large payment to start a newspaper during election season and unseat a corrupt county's crooked officials.
Excerpt
I was in full agreement; this campaign would prick the raw nerve endings of man’s most sensitive organ, his ego. Sanch had designed a relentless schedule of pranks, articles, events and propaganda devised with one goal: utter humiliation. This first attack would be a multi-pronged assault with ridicule at its core. Small-minded, beady-eyed thugs throughout history have reacted violently to ridicule. I expected this gang to react in a predictably mean-spirited manner.
I went directly to my small home, unlocked the door, and entered a phase of my life experience that, as of right this moment, has been thoroughly analyzed, catalogued and rated 'E for extraordinary'.
My living room looked as if a pack of raccoons had taken up residence. There were clothes, pizza boxes, soda cans, crumbs and food detritus scattered everywhere the eye came to rest. The television was at window-rattling volume, and Bugs Bunny was working his magic on that wily tempest of exaggerated hostility, Yosemite Sam.
“Come back here, ya varmint!” Yosemite growled, in much the same way, Sheila, which I learned later was the giantess’ name, would growl at me for the next twenty hours.
Reclining on the threadbare, fifty-dollar couch I’d purchased at a yard sale, was a large, blonde amazonian girl, eating cheeto’s and wearing nothing but black, sheer panties, and one of my dress shirts unbuttoned.
Her feet were as long as my forearm, at least it looked that way, as I stared at them, crossed happily over the back of the couch. She was laughing, until she saw me, and her face did an instant switch from childish enjoyment of a cartoon, to ‘come over and scratch this itch, you lucky bastard’.
She rose from the couch, absently tossing the Cheeto bag on the coffee table, and before I could respond, reached both arms around me, gave a hard enough squeeze to breach and expel my air supply, locked big, luscious red lips-with an orange tint over mine, and plundered my mouth like Republicans turned loose in an Arab money vault.
Book 3 continues the Commander and the Chief's adventures in political intrigue, superstition, old feuds, and the search of Nikola Tesla's missing papers in this Close Encounter of the Weird Kind.
Corporal Travis dreamed of partnering with a police dog, but Fate handed him a faery and something unexpected instead.. As his normal world spirals into chaos, he is thrust into a centuries-old conflict with stakes higher than he ever imagined.
