A world of secrecy, suspense, hard as nails heroes and conspiracy. Filled with high speed car chases, high powered fights and high levels of ACTION. From the best selling, photo perfect, professional pen of author Ron Kendle.

Here’s the opening few pages…

Operation Dragonfly
by Ron Kendle

Ken Brace got the call early that morning. It was still dark. It seemed routine enough. He took his time. Doing morning work out and kiting out. A 9mm Beretta handgun holstered inside his jacket under his left arm and a S & W snub-nosed backup revolver holstered around his right ankle. He took the Audi. And roared through the country roads.
The phone rang again. “Strange”, he thought, “briefing is scheduled for 0615 and it’s 0610. What could be too important to wait?” He hit the green button. A crackling voice came through.
“What is it?” He answered. The voice cleared up.
“Ken, intel is just coming through now. This is a bigger mess then we’ve anticipated.”
“Can’t you just brief me when I get to RDV point in five?”
“No, definitely not Ken. We’ve reason to believe that that RDV point is under surveillance.”
“You’re kidding me? Damn this is bad. What’s the new RDV point?”
“We’re sending you the coordinates through to your Sat Nav.”
The Sat-Nav beeps.
“Got them, over and out”.
“And Ken, be vigilant”
“As alwaaaaayyyyyys!!!”
Out of the blue a red van crashes into the side of the Audi. It careers dangerously toward a ditch. Ken regains back control of his car. Takes a stern deep breath. This is starting too early today. He thinks and SLAM he’s straight into action. Steering the car around the back of the van. Pulls out his hand gun. Rolls down the window. Fires at the tires. The van starts swerving erratically to evade the shots. Ken manages to get a shot through a front tire. The driver loses control. Sparks fly. The van trying to turn topples over. Ken instinctively pulls the car out of the way as the van rolls. And screeches to a halt. Ken stops the car near the wreckage. Jumps out. Approaches it cautiously. Leading with his handgun. The driver’s dead. His face is unrecognizable. Around the back. The rear double doors had opened from the crash. He looks in. With his jaw dropping he grabs his technologically advanced mobile phone and calls HQ.
“I’ve just had an aggressive interaction with a red van, and that’s not the worst of it. The back of the van was filled with glass knives!”

Written by Ron Kendle

In Holding Hands Allison Gray adds a new twist to the chick lit genre. What if a single city girl had the power to see peoples biggest worries? What if she did what she could to help them even though in most cases it would leave her in worse off? Kym would.

Here’s a blurb and the opening pages…

Holding Hands

by Allison Gray

Blurb

When Kym holds hands with someone something special happens. She feels what is on their mind. She shares their sorrow, worries and fears. And she can help. She may not always know what to do but with her loving spirit and generous heart it is only a matter of time before their problems are no more.
But who will help Kym. The man she is in love with doesn’t know it. And he is marrying her best friend, make that ex-best friend. Kym was born with helping hands and always puts friends first though sometimes it doesn’t always come out tops.

Opening

It was a sunny day in the city. Kym had overslept again and was running late. She was very tired by thetime she got to the end of the stairs. The elevator was broke. She composed herself as she left her apartment building. The street was busy. Kym knew that everything would be okay once she had her morning coffee. No matter how late she was she couldn’t afford not to have her morning dose of caffeine. It was life and death.
The coffee shop was busy. Kym stood in the queue. She left a message to Tina at the office that she was going to be late. Eventually the queue moved along and Kym was at the front. The man behind the counter was looking very distracted. Kym knew there was something wrong. She ordered her coffee. She knew that there was a very important pitch coming up in the office and that there was all of important work to get done. But she could not stop herself. She reached over to collect her change and held the man’s hand. And swoosh she was taken away. The man was sad because his wife was sick in hospital and he couldn’t see her because he had to work to pay off the medical bills. He was sad cause his wife was alone in hospital.
And then she was back. The man looked at her curiously. He knew something amazing just happened and that hopefully something else amazing was going to happen.

Written by Allison Gray

American sitcom set in classic American diner “Welby’s”. Centered on the lives of the staff and the interesting characters who dine there.

Here’s a brief character roster and a teaser scene…

Matt – Main character, cook, the everyman, this dog never gets his day

Cam – The attractive waitress, bubbly and always fun, is oblivious to Matt’s secret crush on her

Bridge – The dim kitchen hand, will this guy ever get it right

Justan – pronunced joo-stawn, the foreign uptight head chef, can be a bit of a tyrant

Plus a host of wacky regulars

Here’s a scene:

Welcome to Welby’s

TEASER

               INT. WELBY'S DINER - AFTERNOON

               BRIDGE AND MATT ARE WORKING IN KITCHEN. 

                                   BRIDGE

                      I woke up panicking last night.

                                   MATT

                      What happened, you forgot how to

                      sleep?

                                   BRIDGE

                      No, I turned my dog in to a cannibal.

                                   MATT

                      Do I want to know how?

                                   BRIDGE

                      I feed him the left over hot dogs that

                      I toke home yesterday. I didn't

                      realize what I was doing til it was

                      too late. What am I supposed to do

                      now? He'll probably never go back to

                      dog food now that he's tasted he's own

                      flesh. Oh god, what if he tries to eat

                      himself.

                                   MATT

                      That's not going to happen. Firstly

                      dogs aren't stupid.

                                   BRIDGE

                      That's true, sometimes I'm convinced

                      he's as smart as me.

                                   MATT

                      Uh oh. Well besides that, hot dogs

                      aren't made of dogs.

                                   BRIDGE

                      Course they are. They called hot DOGS!

                                   MATT

                      That's just a nickname, like buffalo

                      wings.

                                   BRIDGE

                      I've never heard of a nickname for

                      buffalo wings.

                                   MATT

                      Buffalo wings is the nickname. Have

                      you ever seen wings on a buffalo.

                                   BRIDGE

                      Well no cause they've probably all be

                      cut off and sent to the sauce factory.

From the rusted typewriter of Kirk Dalinger comes another tale of dames, dukes, rain soaked streets, mournful jazzy music and metaphors.

Here’s the opening page…

A Taxi with a Broken Angel

by Kirk Dalinger

The moon shone like an albino sun over the labyrinth streets of the city below. A dame, like an angel from heaven, hails my taxi. I hit the breaks like a ton of bricks just seeing her. Eyes like two crystal balls showing a future you’d cut your right arm off just to dip your foot in. She was otherworldly like a being from a higher plane, ethereal. I straighten my ensemble as she sleeks into the back seat. I felt unworthy to be in her presence.

“The Westboro Hotel”, it leaves her lips like a butterfly, fluttering slowly into my ear.

She didn’t need to tell me twice. I start the car as the rain starts pouring down like a curtain pulled down across the night sky.

“It’s a bad night to be on the streets alone, you wouldn’t want to hear the stories I’ve heard”, I say.

She’s distracted, there’s something biting her mind like a chimp on a banana. I decide to change things to a more lighter note.

“You from round here originally?”

It takes a while for my talk to register with her.

“Yes, born and raised. I’ve never been any further then the suburbs in all my life”.

“Really? And why’d that be?”

“I’ve got no reason to leave” she stares out the window like a she’s caught looking in to fog lights then sighs “all my problems are right here”.

That crosses the heartstrings like a train cross a railroad bridge.

“And what kind of problems would they be to keep such a beautiful bird from spreading her wings”

“It’s very complicated”

“I hear a lot of messed up things, there’s very little I can’t make sense of”

She hesitates, taking a final breath of air like a cliff diver before jumping feet first. The rainy streets and traffic become a blur as I become enmeshed in her tale of heartbreaks, betrayals, abandonment, neglections. She talks and I drive. It’s definitely like nothing I’ve ever heard before. And I’ve been working these city roads for three decades. I arrive at the hotel and wait while she finishes. She apologies for wasting my time. I assure her it wasn’t a waste. I let her off with the fare if she takes my address and uses it next time she’s caught in a bind. She takes it. Then exits the cab and composes herself into a dignified saunter. I bet she’s been doing that her whole life.

Written by Kirk Dalinger

A short story of mystery, misery and mayhem by the acclaimed genius of L. Holden.

Here it is…

Merchant’s Mal-Chance

The merchants of Maison de le Fleur and it’s surrounding hinterland were as highly regarded as the shit is amongst the pigs. Their fineries were finer than the most finest of fine things. Their selling skills were as silky smooth as the smoothest silk, which was very smooth. Their passion and drive were also things to tell tale of, more passionate than a Frenchman’s beating heart wrapped in cloth of red white and bleu on Bastille day, and the drive of a shooting star with a competitive streak. The one complaint folks had about them was that their metaphors were overblown and dragged on a bit.

Though most didn’t complain. Most were terribly satisfied with the merchants. And the merchants were also most terribly satisfied with their customers. It was an idyllic situation. Most idyllic. But unfortunately terrible things were afoot.

The day was morning and the morning was bright. The sun was emitting spells from a timid height. The water was wet as usual and so were the workers. ‘As usual’, though some of them may have been wet also. The were taking in shipments by the dock. Nothing in the air, environment, mood or text would suggest that there was hardship foreboding. The men working in a chain system. Passing along man to man.

Examples of the good carrying containers: wooden boxes, barrels, burlap sacks, smaller cloth bags,

Examples of goods inside these containers: sandals, spade handles, candles, fosmandles (an exotic fruit that has since gone extinct),

Ways in which the goods and containers weren’t treated: mishandled.

The professionals finished the job. The deliverers begun delivering. The recipients begun receiving. The retailing day had begun. At one of the middle-market stalls, merchant Reinvour was putting his stock on display. Faux excrement, irritable powder, flatulence echoing pillows, he thought about as he put out the sacks of coloured beads. Reinvour always daydreamed about mischievous products he’d love to invent. But his thought bubble burst when he felt something strange at the bottom of the wooden box. It was an ornate stone statue. Reinvour held it using his hands. Examining what looked like a devil or some lesser demon with an inclination for evil. It was definitely not his and that’s what scared him most. He fought his gaze away from the demon’s and called over to Cherjon in the adjacent stall.

“Monsieur Cherjon, look at this what I ave found”

“Ah”, Cherjon replied, “that must belong to Anton de Cloches, his stall sells similar items”

“I see, and where is Monsieur de Cloches now”

“There” pointing at Anton, “he is approaching with a sack of beads.”

“Anton” Reinvour called “it looks like we have been victims of some kind of mischief”

“Well, it didn’t happen in our port.” Anton said.

“I would hardly think so. It is very unfortunate that we both were dealt with such Bad Luck”

“You could probably repeat that a second time” Anton said and it was immediately followed by laughter. But deep in their hearts they knew they would never forget such a harrowing experience as long as the both lived.

Life went back to normal. Business returned to what it usually was, usual. The customers would never know. Because as everyone knows nobody can carry on with life better than the Merchant’s of Maison de le Fleur.

-The Ending

Written by L. Holden

STRUGS is a ‘true to life’ gritty new youth drama. Its name comes from the slang term for ‘struggles’. Which is a major element of the TV series.

Here’s a character treatment…

“STRUGS”

TV Drama – Character Treatment

STRUGS follows the lives of a rather sporadically assorted lot of young’uns, though they cover every race, creed and social class rather conveniently. It pulls no punches. All the characters have serious problems. But they’re all real life problems that are all ‘totally’ relatable.

The roster is as follows:

Joesph – the lead alpha hunk that can’t keep the ladies away,
that’s his dilemma. And he’s secretly a genius.

Hank – the gay and well proud of it. His dilemma is that his family hate him and also he’s got ADHD.

Rob – the dorky geeky nerd who never gets the ladies. He’s too fat and a narcoleptic.

Ruth – the slutty slut with a heart of gold. Her dilemma is the fear that no one will ever love her for who she really is and female pattern baldness.

Gabby – a looker but too bookish. Her dilemma is the bookish bit, and she’s an illegal immigrant.

Deb – again another looker but she has an eating disorder and is agoraphobic.

Kierawn – nicknamed “Clef-E”. He’s a brother with an non stop appetite for ladies and a randy sense of humour. He’s a bit of a tosser and secretly a parent. Gulp!

Myranda – artsy free spirited type. Secretly homeless and a self harmer.

April – a sharp witted sarcastic rocker. And a fugitive.

And they all hang out together and get along. Well, most of the time.

Written by Nigel Cormick

An article about rogue traders for upmarket social culture magazine “The City Spinner”. If you need to know about it, they’ll tell you.

The article…

Rogue Traders by Robin Matthews

My neighbor woke me up in a panic sometime last week. He said the builders had taken off with some of his piping. He mostly panicking because he was in much need of the facilities. I allowed him to use mine that morning. While he was relieving himself my mind begun to wonder about rogue builders. I always knew they were never to be trusted. They’re lazy, dishonest, unreliable and most, if not full-on crooks themselves, have close criminal connections. But I’ve never heard of them so brazenly stealing pipes from houses to, presumably, sell at car-boot sales to buy more tools so that they can steal full boiler systems next time.

After doing some light research my neighbour seems to have gotten off lightly. One of my friends had tiles off of his shed stolen when he commissioned a new garden wall (which was never finished). Another friend found all her dvds replaced with blank cds after her house had been painted. But the worst experience goes to a colleague who let a workman in to read the meters and later found his house missing a storey.

Perhaps I can count myself lucky that I have no horror stories. Though I do have very little dealings with workmen. I’m fortunate that my house was built by workers that were certified and constantly supervised. And all materials and fittings were of top quality. It may have been pricey but over the lifetime of the property I have never had to seek improvements. So the problem it seems is with people themselves trying to cut corners and get cheaper labor and discount materials. In the long-term your better off paying up in the beginning and saving yourself a lot of heartache. One thing is certain: the rogue tradesmen will never change their tricks.

My neighbor then asked me if I could drive him to work cause his car had gotten cemented to the ground. Perhaps the only improvement my house could have had is if it was a lot more remote.

A fantasy novel which takes a more modern approach to the portrayal of evilness. The story begins with a terrorist attack on the Great City of Yoreth. A society has to rally together to combat and battle this ‘new evil’.

Here’s the opening few pages…

Chapter I

“The day that changed all preceding days, and time eternal”

The morning fog was slowly lifting around the Great City of
Yoreth. A bastion of the righteous man. The epicenter of all
the lowlands. It represented the pinnacle of human
achievement. The design was be the greatest team of
architects. The planning by the greatest council of town
planners. The grey stone fortress walls build by the
brawniest builders in all the kingdom. The sculptures and
statues were by the finest artist. Every detail was of the
highest order, right down to the thatching, which was
intricately laid down by master thatchers. The crowning
spectacle of the city was the Crystal Citadel. Towering in
the centre, it was the hub of all the business in the city.

As usual on this mild morning the city was rife with
activity. Stalls were being set up, guardsmen were taking
over shifts from night guardsmen and throughout the streets
and structures a community was rising for another ordinary
day of business for all concerned.

There was nothing to lead anyone into thinking that this
wouldn’t be like any other day.

Upon the city walls an archer notices something flying in the
distance. Like a bird but unnaturally bigger. It was flying
towards the city. The archer dismissed it as perhaps a large
albatross and moved on.

Inside the citadel, on the eleventh floor, the kings
treasurer was already at work. Counting and allocating. While
dipping his quill into a pot of black ink his eyes caught
something out the windows. Quite a strange shape in the sky.
Perhaps a close flock of fowl. Perhaps. And thought no more
on it.

On the streets, a rat-catcher and his young son were
navigating through the back alleyways. The young boy was
splashing his barefeet in the puddles. His father, a serious
man, demanded he stopped. The young boy sighed and hung his
head. Looking down, spots something reflected in the puddles.
Arching skyward rapidly his eyes widened as he watched a
magnificent beast fly overhead. Dragon! He shouted as its
large frame cast him into shadows.

Suddenly the whole city was aware. Watching in horror as it
soared overhead. Crashing straight into the Crystal Citadel.
Glass and fire. The monstrous atrocity silenced and shocked
all. The archer, the treasurer, the rat-catcher, his son, the
stonemasons, the rope weavers, the broth merchants, the
burlap sack makers, pheasants pluckers, goose catchers, dog
tamers, the guardsmen, pig skinners, lute players, tavern
owners, wine bibbers, poets and jesters, scholarly monks, men
of leisure, women of pleasure, hilt hammerers, shield
shiners, tunic tailors, guild leaders, knaves and scullery
maids, soothsayers, conspirators, doom-mongers, hangmen,
guild leaders, highway men, thieves, pick pockets, brawler,
cobblers, harlots, way faring men, stablemen, town criers,
bell ringers, kings advisors, spasmatics and wizards.

All united in grief.

Written By Dean Gregory

A high concept sci fi spectacle with endless elaborate effects, perplexing plot, some offensive underlying opinions and ceaselessly difficult science fiction terminology it was always destined to go direct to DVD.

Here’s two scenes and some concept art…

INT. STAR-SHIP CORRIDORS

               GRYSYN is walking down a quiet corridor. He runs into
               DETRMAN.

                                   DETRMAN
                         Commander.

                                   GRYSYN
                         Lieutenant.

                                   DETRMAN
                         Have you heard about Lenroy?

                                   GRYSYN
                         Yes, quite tragic.

                                   DETRMAN
                         It feels suspicious to me.

                                   GRYSYN
                         There is no reason for suspicion,
                         the reports clearly detail that it
                         was suicide.

                                   DETRMAN
                         Forgive me Sir, but that just does
                         not compute. Lenroy had no reason
                         for such an act. He was a great man
                         he would never have taken the
                         coward's way out, no matter what.

                                   GRYSYN
                         What are you trying to insinuate?

                                   DETRMAN
                         I'm insinuating that this was no
                         ordinary suicide. This was a
                         murder.

                                   GRYSYN
                         That is a gross accusation to make,
                         unless you have proof?

                                   DETRMAN
                         No tangible evidence as of yet,
                         which only means one thing: that
                         the murderer was a professional who
                         knew to clean the scene. And it
                         also would have been someone who
                         would have had much to gain from
                         Lenroy demise.
                         Maybe the successor to the office
                         of Supreme Commander, perhaps,
                         Commander Grysyn.

                                   GRYSYN
                         You are playing a dangerous game of
                         zaxbard. Discontinue this slander
                         now before somebody gets hurt. Do
                         you understand Lieutenant Detrman?

                                   DETRMAN
                             (beat)
                         If he's been murdered then his soul
                         may still be somewhere in this
                         universe and it's our duty to
                         relocate it!

                                   GRYSYN
                         You have forgetten that he was
                         not murdered. This will be the last
                         we hear of your razterblast
                         conspiracies. Now get to your
                         station, Lieutenent.

               DETREMAN begrudgingly salutes and leaves. GRYSYN eyes
               smolder.

               END SCENE

       LENROY and SORYN fleeing from the TENTACKLARS find refuge in
               a cave.

               INT. CAVE

                                   LENROY
                         What were they?

                                   SORYN
                         Tentacklars.

                                   LENROY
                         Are they always this friendly?

                                   SORYN
                         They were only the males, you
                         should see the females.

                                   LENROY
                         I'd rather not.
                             (beat )
                         What do we do now?

                                   SORYN
                         Either wait til the second sun or
                         try going through the cave.

                                   LENROY
                         Which option would be more
                         beneficiary for my starfleet to
                         translocate me?

                                   SORYN
                         You actually think they'll find
                         you?

                                   LENROY
                         The 409 Quadinaires are the best
                         starfleet in the known galaxy and I
                         am their Supreme Commander. They
                         will not stop til they find me.

                                   SORYN
                         You will not be found here, we are
                         beyond the reach of starfleets.
                         Before long they will give up on
                         you and move on. You will be
                         forgotten about.

                                   LENROY
                         You don't know my crew.

                                   SORYN
                         I know human beings, Lenroy.

                                   LENROY
                             (Pause)
                         Which option do you think better?

                                   SORYN
                         For survival or for your
                         razterblast plot?

                                   LENROY
                         My rescue.

                                   SORYN
                         It'd be better to wait here.

                                   LENROY
                         Then that is what I shall do then.

               They wait. Time passes. 

               INT. CAVE - LATER

               LENROY and SORYN are waiting around a mobile heat-emitting
               proton generator.

                                   LENROY
                         How long have been here for that
                         you have given up all hope?

                                   SORYN
                         In the absence of time keeping
                         devices I can only estimate 39
                         georotas.

                                   LENROY
                         Rodafuk! That's a long time! Have
                         you discovered anything about this
                         geosystem?

                                   SORYN
                         Only that Jadagates don't like you
                         touching their burrows.

                                   LENROY
                         Are there no other intelligent life
                         forms? No nearby trade routes? No
                         traces of settlers? No anything?

                                   SORYN
                         None of those things and believe me
                         I've spent enough time looking. All
                         there is here is...
                             (stops)
                         Do you here that?

               A noise approaches through the cave. Suddenly a DUNEK
               appears. It is a small scaly creature with a small black eye
               and a wide sliming mouth.

                                   LENROY
                         What do we do?

                                   SORYN
                         Don't worry, their vision is poor.
                         But we should get out of here.

               LENROY make a sudden move for the exit.

                                   SORYN
                         No! Move slow!

               The DUNEK leaps at LENROY. They fight.

                                   SORYN
                         Lenroy you need to pull out his
                         eye!

               After much struggle LENROY defeats the DUNEK. LENROY is badly
               wounded

                                   SORYN
                         We got to go before more come.

               SORYN helps LENROY walk. They leave the cave.

               END SCENE

This is what a Dunek looks like:

Written by Hank Nirah

The about page has some background information so make sure to check that out imaginary visitors!

We’re going to have so much fun together!