My infatuation with writing was born before I ever took my first breath, somewhere on the rural plains of Eastern North Carolina, nourished by the adventures of my grandmother’s childhood. From the time I was only four or five years old, her memories gave flight to my imagination and fuel to my curiosities. Her stories widened my eyes to the fascinatingly bizarre in the everyday.
As a young girl, my grandmother would bring her puppy with her to stalk rabbits every morning. The two of them would chase an unlucky long-eared rascal until it escaped into a hollow at the base of a tree, and she would run a stick around the inside of the opening as though churning butter. The spell of the sound and vibration would lure the rabbit out of the tree and into her hands.
Good fiction, inventive and provocative fiction, reverberates in readers and spellbinds them. It can spur surprise, delight, discomfort, and revelation and defy reason. As a storyteller, I strive to help others solve their problems by sharing things that I have read about, heard about, and seen. But I also prize the look on people’s faces when they hear the brilliant punch line of a joke, or when they experience an epiphany that knocks the logical wind out of them. These are the reactions that I live to inspire in my audiences when I write paranormal thrillers.
My obsession with the extraordinary in my writing might also, ironically, stem from my 20-year career in the U.S. Army. I can allow my mind to wander in the extraterrestrial sphere while my love for my country keeps me grounded in domestic affairs. Of all of my accomplishments, serving as a paratrooper in a Special Forces Group and a Field Artillery outfit during Operation Desert Shield/Desert Storm claims high rank. Few situations force a person to confront his humanity as painfully as going off to war, and this experience taught me both to accept accountability for my actions and to trust others. Eventually, I became a successful Army Recruiter and Station Commander, earning the Top Recruiting Station awards in Dallas and Seattle Recruiting Battalions. North Carolina Central University granted me a Public Service Award for my work in the local community. And currently, I serve fellow veterans as an HR Specialist for the Department of Veteran Affairs.
Other passions of mine include playing chess, traveling, and indulging in my contrarian nature by instigating debate. Spending time with my wife tops the list of my life’s privileges, however. Whether I am entertaining her with my emulation of Laurence Olivier as Marcus Crassus or protecting her from an elk during one of our photography excursions in the wild, I treasure her companionship and affection.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Metamorphosis: The Trey Parker Story, the first novel in a three-part paranormal thriller series. A young male is forever changed after a near death experience. His incident invites the attention of a covert Government agency. A gritty detective remains diligent in discovering the facts of the incident and encounters opposition from the unlikeliest of places.
The men average six feet and two hundred pounds each, most with two-day-old stubble. They stand waiting as their sergeant, nicknamed Razor, walks across the half-lit Air Force hangar to speak to the captain. Razor’s camouflage pants and green T-shirt fade in the dim hangar as he approaches the captain, but his black jump boots glisten. “Sir, the men would like to say a prayer.”
The veins throb in the captain’s neck, as if his heart has pushed all of his blood to the wrong spot. “Bullshit! You got to be shitting me, Razor. You tell the men to save their breath for when the rounds fly. I don’t take orders from women … and I don’t take orders from God.”
The seasoned communications officer turned Green Beret’s shoulder thumps Razor in the chest as he walks past him and back to his A-team in the Okinawa, Japan hanger—far from their home base at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. Huddled around an enlarged map spread on an easel, the twelve burly soldiers can see the answer on the captain’s face as he walks toward them with Razor a few steps behind.
His laser pointer stops on an area on the map circled in red tape. The captain says, “You have your orders, men … We land here … about twenty clicks from our target. Here,” he slides his red dot into an area on the map circled in green tape. “We’ll rotate, carrying the ordnance every two clicks … then we’ll take out the target from this ridgeline. Too easy. Any questions?”
The captain looks around, but no one says a word. In fact, the eyes of his soldiers turn away for the first time that he can remember. No plan survives first contact with the enemy—they all know that. The captain glances at his men. “Your M14s will save you, not God.”
The captain writes each of their names deep into his memory, but finds no time for praying. “Grab your gear, men.”
The group of Green Berets quick-time it out of the hangar and onto a C-141 Air Force jet with a classified destination. They were all briefed on their infiltration plan, and were told no feasible exfiltration plan could be formulated. After planning the destruction of the target, military leaders could not agree on an exit strategy. No escape plan was sound enough that Pentagon planners were willing to put their ‘John Hancock’ on. The Green Berets will be on their own, and truer still, their lives will be in the hands of their young captain—and God, if he cares.
Having worked so hard to earn the respect of his sergeants, a challenge West Point Military Academy barely prepared him for, the captain quietly fears he may have just lost it. Most of the sergeants are older than he is and have families of their own, while he is still a bachelor. They have great reason to want to keep their lives. The captain’s baby is a new black Hummer he enjoys cruising around the base on the weekends.
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/RW-Reels/e/B00TSAXE9C
The author will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour, and a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn host.