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The sun was setting, and a cool breeze had begun to blow. Frank awoke to see Yuto and Soo Mi staring at
the sea, then splashing their faces with seawater. Helen’s head was lying in Frank’s
lap, the back of her head blood-caked. He soaked a rag with water and attempted to moisten the blood to
remove it. She tried to open her eyes, but the seawater mist had evaporated, and a salty crust
covered her eyelids. Frank dabbed the rag on her eyes gently.
“Thanks. Any signs of…?” Helen whispered.
“No. They’ll be here soon.”
“How do you know?” she asked.
“Hey, this is the twenty-first century. Technology and all that stuff. They know we’re down. They will
search for us,” Frank said authoritatively.
“It’s been quite a while, you know.”
“Yeah, I know, but only a day,” he said, panning the sky. Noticing more water at his feet than just a few
minutes ago, he grabbed one of the plastic cups retrieved from the plane and bent over
and bailed water out of his area of the raft and passing it on to Yuto, motioning that he do the same and
pass it on. “This will be an ongoing thing unless we can stop it,” he said to Yuto.
The others also seemed to understand.
Feeling a bit refreshed, Frank stood carefully, inspecting the nooks and crannies of the raft hoping to find
something new. The tip of a red strap peeked out under Otto. Kneeling down and
crawling to him, Frank pointed down. Otto reacted and rolled to his left, and Frank pulled on the rubbery
material attached to the strap. Whatever it was, it was huge and bright red.
“That’s a cover for this raft. This will stop the water from soaking us, and if it rains, it sure will be a
Godsend,” Kimberly said softly while replacing the rag on her bloody head.
Frank wondered why she hadn’t offered this information before. He guessed she was injured more than
she or he suspected. She, indeed, was acting unusual.
That gash is pretty big. Did she suffer a concussion, too?
The cover was spread out, the edges lying on each passenger’s lap. Each connection on the cover fit
raised areas on the top of the sides of the raft, and the cover was soon being attached in anorganized fashion. Once raised by two inflatable poles in the middle and to the sides, window flaps could
be lowered to allow the breeze, if any, to ventilate the inside yet keep out the penetrating sun and
exhausting heat. A silent celebration of sips from liter bottles of water followed.
Flairs, a beacon, water, food, a flashlight, and now a cover. Christ, this is incredible. Kate would be proud
that we found them. Now, I have to be sure we don’t lose them. We really need food.
“What about food?” Otto asked.
A mind reader, now?
“There’s a two-day supply of food rations in all rafts, uh, and, I think, saltwater desalting kits. I’m getting
sort of goofy so let me think here. There is also a little, uh, fishing kit, I think. Yeah,
there is. What else? Uh, a knife somewhere, and, geez, I can’t seem to remember everything.”
“We have some unused platters from last night’s dinner, too—not many of them, mind you. Have to go
slow with them just like the water,” Frank said, considering the request spooky,
especially right after he’d thought of food.
“I’m damn hungry. Break one of those suckers open now,” Otto said, raising his voice.
Frank viewed the other’s affirmation of Otto’s request and opened two dinners. The food was devoured in
no time. Frank reminded them not to drink too much water, but his pleas were being
ignored, especially by Otto and Homer.
Better get found soon. The water and food will be gone shortly if these fools don’t heed the warnings.
Shit, the more that fat bastard drinks, the more the others will drink to keep up.
“Listen up, folks. I’m not kidding. I know you all think we are going to get rescued soon, but what if we
were way off course, and they’re searching elsewhere? We have to conserve food and
water for the worst possible scenario.”
No one seemed to hear his voice.
Finally, Helen spoke up. “Listen to the man, you assholes. Stop drinking all the fucking water and eating
the food. Before you know it, we’ll be destitute out here. Get real. We’re survivors of
a shitty crash. How often does that happen? Now, we need to rely on each other and get out of this
shithole in one piece. Do you jerks want to live or die of stupidity?”
All eyes were upon Helen as she spoke about how cooperation must exist in this floating cosmos. Frank’s
pleas had been rejected, but the faces of the others showed understanding,
reasoning, and concern.
Swearing at these idiots got their attention. I’ve told Kate this multiple times. She always scoffed at my
justification for cussing. Wait until I tell her this one!
Cussing at times was a serious contention between Kate and Frank. Frank had been brought up with a
bunch of boys in the neighborhood, and cursing was the way they made themselves feel
like adults and all grown up. The more you cursed, the more the others thought of you as ‘cool.’
However, Kate was not a fan of it. Her father did a lot of it, and it turned her off and embarrassed her for
as long as she could remember. She loved her father, but his constant repetition of these words deflated
his effect as a father figure in her eyes, and she didn’t want that to happen to their children so she
always showed some obvious disappointment when he cursed, often saying, “You don’t want your little
girl to grow up cussing, do you?”
But it was so difficult to stop cold turkey. It was as if the cursing was automatic, ingrained, so to speak.
The words just blurted out without him thinking, often before he even knew he’d said
them. He thought Helen’s screaming and using the ‘F’ word proved his point. The people who weren’t
listening were shocked into listening for sure. Wasn’t that a good thing?
“What’s that in the water?” Irving said, pointing out of his portal in the cover.
Everyone leaned toward him, and the raft shifted, throwing several of them into the middle, crushing
some of the dinners. Some continued to try to view what Irving had seen while others
salvaged the food.
“Where?” Maxine asked.
“There,” he said.
“Shit. It’s a fin, a fucking shark’s fin. He’s going to attack. He’s a Great White. Jesus Christ, get us out of
here,” shrieked Homer.
“Shut up, Homer. Stop making noise. It will only make him more suspicious. Sharks don’t attack just to
attack,” said Irving.
“They do if they are hungry,” Homer blurted.
“Contrary to your stupid beliefs, they don’t, especially rafts and boats,” Irving replied in a sarcastic tone.
“Yeah, I saw Jaws,” Homer said with authority.“That was Hollywood, not real life. Calm down. Keep quiet. Just watch the thing for now,” Frank
suggested.
For the next few hours, they remained fixated on the shark. It flowed through the water effortlessly while
the front end searched and the back end guided the head to and fro. Its movements
were repetitive and deliberate, and it certainly was not in a hurry and wasn’t acting agitated. At times, it
seemed the shark actually was looking up at the passengers and then glancing down as it turned.
The gray leathery covering of its body was quite mesmerizing, and the dorsal fin was the central point,
allowing them to follow it wherever it went. Occasionally, the shark dipped below the water, and
the fin of the tail replaced it, but shortly after that, the dorsal fin reappeared and moved slowly past the
raft. There were other sharks nearby, but this one was the closest and for the longest time.
Then, it was gone. They were all gone. Rain in the form of a warm shower began. Frank and Yuto, with
the help from Kimberly, fashioned the cover’s top into a funnel to direct the rainwater
into some empty bottles. Others scooped up any extra rainwater they could and drank it. It was considered
a blessing from above, for sure. Otto seemed to be a dying animal trying to suck up and
swallow any water near him. He couldn’t use his right hand, but he licked his shirt and pulled it up to his
lips with the left hand, all the while jerking his body around to lick the raft’s edge where the
raindrops were so obvious as they hit. Kimberly used a gentler technique, cupping her hands and sipping
from the heels of them as water fell onto her fingertips. Others just leaned back with open
mouths, and others placed their hands in a circle around their mouths as funnels.

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Genre: Mystery/Thriller

“Sergeant, in my office, please.” Captain Shamus McGuire stood at attention in his doorway, all six-feet-four
inches of him. His steel-gray hair cut to military precision focused one’s attention on his matching gray eyes.
Homicide Sergeant Jake Carrington of the Wilkesbury Police Department looked across his joined desk to his
partner, and lifelong friend Louie Romanelli and shrugged. Louie threw him a questioning look as he adjusted
his tie and started to rise from his chair.
“Just Jake, Louie,” the captain said as he turned into his office.
Jake picked up their latest case file to update the captain and walked in to join McGuire.
“Take a seat, Jake.” The captain pointed to one of the two institutional-gray ones in front of his desk. He took
off his glasses and massaged his forehead.
Though Jake preferred to stand, he took the less beat-up seat on the right. The room was a monument to the
man, all spit and polish. Sparse furnishing with a few awards and medals hung on the walls. Paperwork in
precise piles, a picture of his family, the standard computer and phone were all he had on his desk. McGuire’s
appearance and stance spoke of his military background and warned his cops he took no crap from them. It
wasn’t like him to stall but that’s exactly what he was doing at the moment.
McGuire turned his smoky eyes on him. Jake went on alert. Something was up, something big.
“Captain?” Instincts had Jake bracing for what came next.
“Spaulding’s coming up for parole again. And this time he’s requesting a DNA test before he comes before the
board.” Jake’s stomach curdled. McGuire continued, “He’s also requesting the DNA samples from your
sister’s crime scene be tested against his sample.”
“What bullshit, Shamus.”
Jake jumped up, roamed the office. His mouth went dry. Deep down he was afraid the old samples somehow
wouldn’t match and would set Eva’s killer free. This new development would split his attention. What could
Spaulding gain from this maneuver? To catch a killer, you had to get inside his head. Did Spaulding assume
the system would release him if he got a new trial?
He looked out the window and studied the downtown area as he ran every scenario through his mind. This
was his town, though imperfect as it was. He and Eva had been born here of immigrant parents. Its one
hundred thousand residents depended on him and those who had come before him to protect it.
Outside of his tour of military duty overseas he didn’t venture far from it, a good city, though down on its luck
since all the manufacturing jobs went overseas. Wilkesbury recently had the distinguished honor to be named
one of the top five saddest rust belt cities. And it’s the one that was farthest south of the belt. In its glory days,
nothing could touch
Wilkesbury. Most of the crime in the city came from the twenty percent of the Wilkesburians living under the
national poverty level. The city had its mix of people, businesses, homeless, shoppers, and kids. More kids
claimed the downtown area since UConn had put a branch right across the street from the station. Today
some of the kids wore shorts to celebrate the hot weather. Last week it was in the forties. Today the
temperatures hit the seventies. New England, you gotta love it, he thought.
Clearing his mind, he focused on The Palace Marquee. Next month Johnny Mathis would be here for two
days. He thought it a monument to the citizens of Wilkesbury when private citizens and businesses raised the
money to save the Palace. It had been closed for eighteen years. The last performer had been Tony Bennett
in 1987. Bennett had opened the newly restored theater in 2004 and it was still going strong. Jake loved the
old theater. It brought back good memories from his childhood. The grand old theater done in the tradition of
the Met was a step back in time. Since it had been refurbished it drew some big-name performers and plays.
It’s about time we got something decent in the downtown area, he thought. Murders were down in recent
years but overall crime continued. Eva’s death was the
reason he became a cop instead of going on to play pro ball after college.
Turning from the window, he walked back to stand in front of Shamus’s desk. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear the last
part,” Jake said.
“The sperm gathered at the time of the autopsy was preserved, and with new technology he has the right to
ask for the testing.”
“When will it happen? I want to be there through the whole process from collection to testing to make sure
there aren’t any switch-ups.” What a way to start a Monday.
“It hasn’t been granted yet. His lawyer is working on the request,” McGuire stated.
“When will it happen?” Jake rubbed his temples where a headache was forming.
“The board acts in their own time. I’d say toward the end of the month. I’m behind you, as is the entire
department, Jake, to make sure Eva gets justice.”
Jake paced the room. Seventeen years and it seemed like yesterday.
“When they took him out after the trial, Spaulding whispered to me he’d done it and enjoyed every moment of
it,” Jake said. It was a moment in time he would never forget.
There were nights after the trial he dreamed up ways of killing Spaulding, making him suffer as much, if notmore, than Eva had. Even today, when his moral code screamed there was no justification for taking a life, he
understood deep down in his soul that, if given the chance, he’d remove George Spaulding from the face of
this Earth and not look back. Captain McGuire’s voice floated back into his head. Jake felt shame standing in
front of Shamus with thoughts of murder in his head. If he did kill, what would separate him from the ones he
hunted every day of his life?
“As a cop, you and I both understand the evidence is what convicts, along with a smart prosecutor.
Spaulding’s lawyer has petitioned the court. Even if the DNA isn’t a match, it wouldn’t get him an immediate
release. There was other evidence putting him at the crime scene. And there was an eyewitness who saw him
push Eva into his car. All it will get him is a new trial. If I remember this right, all of the evidence pointed to
him. Have faith, Jake.”
“Faith? Is that what I should tell Eva? Oh wait. I can’t. Because she’s dead!”
The captain ignored his outburst. “If he goes to trial I promise we’ll reopen the case and work it along with our
current files. But, you can’t touch the file when we do.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“No, it’s not. If we want the chain of evidence to remain pure you can’t touch it. I’ll respect and appoint
whoever you want to work it,” McGuire said.
“Louie.”
“It can’t be him either.” McGuire held up his hands before Jake could interrupt him. “He’s too close to you.”
“What’s not to say any of the men in my department aren’t too close to me?”
“Whoever you pick will have a state trooper working with him.”
“You don’t trust your own men?” Aggrieved, Jake threw up his hands.
“Do you want answers?”
“Shamus, I already got my answer. I’ve no doubt Spaulding is guilty,” Jake said.
“Then this is the best way to handle it. When we catch the killer, it will ensure a conviction,” Shamus said.
Jake pushed a hand through his hair. The air thinned, cutting off his next breath. “I need to get out of here.”
He rushed from McGuire’s office. At his desk Jake grabbed his car keys and ignored Louie’s questions. He
didn’t trust himself to speak. The pit of his stomach burned. What if the DNA didn’t match Spaulding’s?
Damn, he wanted to punch something. No, not something. He wanted to punch out Spaulding.
I swear if they release him—I’ll—I’ll kill him.
“Jake, wait up.” Louie Romanelli followed him out of the bullpen.
“Not now.” Jake kept walking.
Louie caught up to him and grabbed his arm as he would a suspect and twirled him around. If he wanted to,
Jake could’ve decked him. They were evenly matched in height and weight. Instead, he stood rigid. “Talk to
me,” Louie said.
“Give me a couple of hours to pull myself together. We’ll meet at my house later if you can. In the meantime,
work the Wagner case. I’d hate not to give the Wagners the answers they need.” He didn’t bother to mention
the case was similar to Eva’s that, he too needed the closure.
“Tell me what’s wrong. Did McGuire fire you?” Louie’s olive complexion whitened as he asked the question.
His dark eyes searched Jake’s face for an answer.
Leave it to Louie. For the first time in over a half hour, he laughed. “No, I’m not fired. Spaulding’s up for parole
again and has requested new testing.”
He stared down his friend as Louie processed the information. If it wasn’t for Louie and his family during the
weeks and months that followed Eva’s death, he wouldn’t be standing here today.
How different we are, Jake thought. Louie, married for seventeen years to his grade-school sweetheart, now
had three kids. He, on the other hand, liked being single. Side by side, though they matched each other in
height, his skin tone paled next to Louie’s dark Italian coloring.
“Shit.”
“Go back to work. I’ll talk to you later.”
Jake walked away with his head down and his mind spinning out in every direction. No matter what Shamus
said, he owed it to Eva to find the answers.
It’s my fault she died.

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Several
months after Kevin’s death, Amanda wrote an autobiography of her
life with Kevin called Stolen andshe asked me if I would help edit the book.  Once we put the
finishing touches on Stolen, we decided we would cowrite a fictional
series called The Charly Stevens series.

Once
we had an idea for the above projects, we needed a Social Engineer to
handle publishing, website development, cover art, and social media
for our company.  We were lucky enough to convince Kris Spoon tojoin our team.  Kris has a wide range of experience in the world
of publishing and social media and has used those unique skills to
create a platform for not only the works we have created to date, but
for those to come.  We hope in the future to be able to help
other authors bring their works to life through our company.

Acceptance:
Tank walked with me to Riley’s door and she squeezed my shoulder, then went down the hall to the nurse’s station. I stood at
that door taking deep breaths trying to pull myself together until, with a shaking hand, I pushed the door open. When I saw the
big strong man that had become such a big part of my life lately lying in that bed with tubes hanging out of him and the
machines making noise all around him, I sucked in a ragged breath and the tears started falling again.
I saw movement and then Riley lifted his head and turned toward me and as soon as he saw me, that brilliant smile lit up his
face. I slowly made my way to his side and when I got there and looked down into his eyes, I started sobbing. His eyes were
puffy and his face was pale with multiple small lacerations. Riley lifted his arm, the one without the splint on it and took my hand
and pulled it to his lips. His lips were dry and the kiss was weak.
He smiled again and said, “It’s ok Charly, I’m going to be ok, alright?” looking up at me to make sure I believed him.
I just bent down and laid my head on his shoulder as he brought his arm around me holding me to his chest, letting me cry it all
out. When I finished, not sure how long it took but I finally was able to pull myself together, I pulled my head up and looked him
in the eye.
“You promised not to break my heart, getting yourself killed certainly qualifies as breaking my heart,” I said, but there was no
hostility there, something else entirely.
I didn’t realize until right this moment just how much Riley has taken over my heart. I am in love with this man and the realization
of that slammed into me like a truck going 100 miles an hour. How have I gone from where I was, to this place so quickly. Then I
thought how long it has been and realized it has taken quite a bit of time to get to where I was at that moment, to allow me to
feel something for someone again. I am just going to have to accept that to love someone is to live with the chance that you can
lose them. If my past taught me anything, it was to show those who you love how much they mean to you each and every day.
To take chances when they arrive and never second guess your feelings. Life is short.
I brought my lips down to his and I made sure he understood what he means to me. And then to torture him for almost giving me
a heart attack I leaned into his ear.
“It’s too bad you got hurt, I just put clean sheets on my bed, but I guess you have your own clean sheets here,” then I gently bit
his earlobe and a moan escaped his lips and when I pulled my head back I saw goosebumps on his arm. I finally let myself
smile at him as he returned the smile.
“Sure, hit a guy while he’s down. Trust me, I will get my revenge,” he said as he took my hand to his lips and placed a gentle
kiss on it. Now I had goosebumps.

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In
the far off land of Manji, two tribes live in a strained peace- the
magic wielding Manjians and the supernatural

Vampires.
A delicate balance is kept between the two races who depend on one
another for survival. This peace is broken however when the fireweed,or Io as it’s called, a mythical plant, grows once again within the
cursed land called the Barron. Named in a

prophecy
that speaks doom for both races, the beautiful plant causes panic
within the Vampire community. But the bigger mystery comes when a
prisoner, thought dead, is found to be alive and has escaped into the
forbidden lands beyond the Vampire’s border.

Prince
Jarek is sent to retrieve her, only to find his life set on a new
course when the true Io reveals herself as both a worthy adversary
and lover. Will the species survive her wrath? How much will the fire
cleanse?

In
between writing, MJ enjoys reading, collecting music and attending
concerts. Lux is the first installment in the Veritas series which is
MJ’s first published work.

The field had once been full of life. Vegetation filled the base with leafy greens and was adorned by soft heathers
and vibrant yellows. Trees reached for the sky, their tops nearly playing with the clouds that drifted in the
atmosphere above. Animals moved in and out of the worn game trails drinking from the nearby stream or feasting
on the nutrients the earth gave up. The area was at peace.
That was before the war. Before the Cleanse.
Before the Royals, the Zheng clashed with the People, the Koa. After the battle, the bodies were left strewn about
the field carelessly. The sun rose and they burst into flames. The Vampires’ corpses were consumed by fire, erasing
all memory of who they were and who they would be. They burned for days before their ashes were consumed by
the ground. No one knew how many spirits lay within the field. But it was no secret the spirits of the warriors who
were slain there haunted the ground and contaminated the air. It was said the leader of the Dragons laid a curse on
the land, allowing those violent and restless spirits to attack any who dared cross the barren land. Superstitions ran
rampant across and kept the Vampires away.
Superstitions aside, this was truth: where life once sprang, death now reigned. All that was left of the plants were
gnarled, charred roots of the towering trees which now stuck out from the ground like skeletal hands seeking refuge
in the light of day.
A prophecy lay amongst the memories of the few who managed to live beyond the day the field burned. It is said
that nothing would grow on the scarred land until a chosen warrior of the People came forth from the ashes. This
time would be signaled by the growth of the Io, a flowering plant that represented fire and rebirth. It was rare and
called Fireweed in the common tongue. The Io signaled the cleansing of the psyche, a changing of the times when
the head blind Vampires would reclaim their magic and make amends for their genocide. Any unworthy who
touched it would be burned and those who came with pure spirits would be healed.

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Former
military, John Vellum is a Protector. He protects the elite. The
elite can be difficult but John knows a firm hand will keep his
clients safe but Mel is not what he expects.

The
danger to her life is real and imminent. While trying to keep her
safe, he learns she is spunky, vulnerable, and sexy. Amidst
kidnapping attempts and other threats, John’s desire leads to
something deeper if he can only get her to trust him.

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“Mel Breuer. I got a notice to report to Security Chief Albert Johannson,” she said to the
corporal behind the counter of the security offices on Space Station Joplin.
“One moment,” Corporal Ottmeyer said. He tapped out something on his comp. “You’re to
go right back. It’s the second door on the left.”
“Thank you,” Mel said. She frowned still concerned why security called her out of her work
as a supply officer.
Standing before the door, she knocked and heard a grumbled come in. Taking a deep breath,
she stepped through the door. Behind a large desk, Albert Johannson looked at his comp and
then
at her. “Hi,” she said as he and the other man stood. “Mel Breuer. You called me out of work.”
She let the door close behind her, felt suddenly trapped.
Mel looked between the older man and the tall man who also rose from one of the chairs. The
two men were polar opposites. Albert Johannson was a bureaucrat, more used to shuffling
papers
than working on the station. If rumors were to be believed, Johannson used to be a bad ass but
he
didn’t look it. The other man was all muscle, tense, dark, and mysterious. His purple eyes
assessed every detail, tracked all her movements. She recognized his type immediately. He
was a
protector, a warrior, a man who knew how to fight.
“Mel Breuer,” Albert said. “Ah. I see. You have permission to work under this name.”
“It’s my name legally,” Mel said gritting her teeth.
“You are in fact Princess Margarita Eleanor Leona Zaveri of the Finnian Alliance,” Albert
said.
“I’m not actually,” Mel said. When both men stared at her, she rolled her eyes. “All right,
technically I was. However, I renounced my title.”
“Princess,” Albert said. “We’ve received a request from the Finnian Alliance to provide you
with protection.”
“No, you haven’t,” Mel said. She stepped back towards the door. “There’s no way anyone
there is going to order protection for me.”
“You may have difficult family relations,” Albert said. “But this is a diplomatic request.”
“Lose it,” Mel said. “I don’t need protection and I don’t want it.”
“Not going to happen,” Albert said. “I suggest you sit while I explain what will be
happening.”
“No,” Mel said. “Look. Certain members of my family have a ridiculous sense of humor.
This is their idea of a joke in order to annoy me. There’s no way the queen approved protection
for me.”
“The queen,” Albert looked through the paperwork. “No. It was Consort Robert Breuer.”
“Dad,” Mel frowned. She pushed back her long strawberry blond hair. “Daddy ordered it?”
“If your father is Robert Breuer,” Albert said.
“Can I… Is there somewhere I can make a call in private,” Mel asked worry clouding her
gray eyes.
“We’ll give you the room for five minutes,” Albert said. “I have a number of meetings. We
need to get you to a secure location.”
The protector purple eyes met hers, assessed her. Mel raised her eyebrow, refusing to be
intimidated by him.
“Thank you,” Mel said. As they stepped out of the room, she pulled out her com, frowned.
She made the connection.

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