C.G. Cooper's Blog, page 5
September 10, 2015
"Fallen" Is Now LIVE and Ready For You
Daniel Briggs #2 Here it is. Thanks to the diligent work of the Novels Live team and our Beta Readers, Fallen is now LIVE and ready for you, my closest Corps Justice friends, to download for only 99-cents (this pricing will only be available for two days so don't wait).
Due to my new exclusivity term with Amazon, this book will only be available to purchase on Amazon. It is also available via Kindle Unlimited if you've subscribed to that program.
But for those who love your other devices, don't forget that the Kindle app is FREE to download.
I'll shut up now and let you use the links below to get your copy. Enjoy and don't forget to leave a review! Amazon US
Amazon UK
Amazon CA
Amazon AU
Amazon IN
Amazon DE
Book Description
I lost track of the drinks...
Deeper and deeper I go...
This next stop may be my last.
Another town, another problem. Former Marine sniper Daniel Briggs slips from locale to locale, the haze a comforting pillow, but inevitably the chips fall hard.
Daniel finds himself in Maine, courtesy of a small hamlet called Old Orchard Beach. While everything seems quaint on the surface, the veteran sniper soon finds himself pitted between evils. Which one will he choose...or which one will choose him? Check out the rest of the Corps Justice novels >> HERE <<
Due to my new exclusivity term with Amazon, this book will only be available to purchase on Amazon. It is also available via Kindle Unlimited if you've subscribed to that program.
But for those who love your other devices, don't forget that the Kindle app is FREE to download.
I'll shut up now and let you use the links below to get your copy. Enjoy and don't forget to leave a review! Amazon US
Amazon UK
Amazon CA
Amazon AU
Amazon IN
Amazon DE
Book DescriptionI lost track of the drinks...
Deeper and deeper I go...
This next stop may be my last.
Another town, another problem. Former Marine sniper Daniel Briggs slips from locale to locale, the haze a comforting pillow, but inevitably the chips fall hard.
Daniel finds himself in Maine, courtesy of a small hamlet called Old Orchard Beach. While everything seems quaint on the surface, the veteran sniper soon finds himself pitted between evils. Which one will he choose...or which one will choose him? Check out the rest of the Corps Justice novels >> HERE <<
August 6, 2015
What Is Daniel Briggs Up To?
I hope you've all had a great summer so far. Things are winding for the Cooper Clan while things are about to get ramped up with Corps Justice again. The Novels Live team and I have completed roughly half of the new Daniel Briggs novel, Fallen, and the plan is to get it to you before the end of August.
Until then, get some more free stuff and see what's going on in Corps Justice land below.
Don't forget to go to the bottom of this post and read the first chapter (unedited) of Fallen to get your fix.
Semper Fidelis,
CGC Designed Just For You Thanks to some motivated readers who prodded me for more Corps Justice stuff, I came up with a new manifesto and a couple posters for you guys. There's simple and there's retro-ish. Now, I did the writing, but someone much snazzier than me did the designing. Feel free to copy them, print them, share them on social media, or send them to your congressman.
I hope to have some fancy posters made soon, and even some more versions, but for now you can swipe the files and use them as you wish.
Just click on the images to download. Enjoy.
A Huge Thanks The release of Papal Justice was our most successful to date. Thanks to everyone who bought a copy. If you haven't gotten a copy yet, all the links to purchase are HERE. If you've read it and haven't written a review, please consider doing so. Reviews fuel the success of these novels. 
The Zimmer Doctrine (Book 11) Just got the new cover done for the upcoming eleventh book of the main Corps Justice series. Check it out along with the book blurb. Expect an early Fall release. 
A world unraveling from within...
A president ready to challenge his enemies...
A warrior who is needed, but is lost in his misery...
The Middle East. Asia. Europe. South America. Everywhere President Brandon Zimmer looks there is corruption and the threat of spreading gloom. With a world economy teetering from instability within the European Union and the Chinese financial system, hidden powers seek to capitalize on this weakness, and harness it for their own gain.
While The Zimmer Doctrine stands as a beacon against said enemy, its architect still needs his most important ally at his side. But rocked with personal loss and a nagging sense of doubt and inevitability, Cal Stokes may no longer be the man to stand with his friend, or to lead his warriors at The Jefferson Group. What does the future hold for this once stalwart patriot?
Unedited Excerpt From Fallen
(CAUTION: The following contains unedited material that may be unsuitable for the grammatically inclined.)
Chapter 1 Old Orchard Beach, Maine
A seagull screeched overhead as I downed the shot of Jack Daniels from a cheap plastic shot glass. The vessel matched my surroundings, suitable but far from grand. I’d arrived in Old Orchard Beach just after one o’clock in the afternoon. No real reason, other than the fact that I wanted to get off the Amtrak train and stretch my legs. Getting a few drinks and some food was a bonus, but the plan was to walk right back to the platform and keep heading north when I was done.
I asked a local where I could get a good view of the ocean, and the guy told me the best you could get was on the Pier. “But stay away from the Pier Patio Pub,” the guy had said, “It’s not good for tourists this time of year.”
I’d ignored his second recommendation and headed straight for the Pub. The guy was right. The place was full of locals, and every head turned when I walked in and asked for a table with a view. The hostess pointed to the stairs and said I could pick any spot I wanted.
The good news was that my table did overlook the Atlantic, and the mid-May sky was fresh and clean, like someone had given it a good scrub and left me with a squeaky clear view. I love the water, always had. Along with my good friend John Daniels, they were the two best things I had going. Not a bad deal considering what I’d been through.
Despite being the only obvious out-of-towner in the joint, the waitress was attentive and soon brought out a bottle of Jack when I slipped her a twenty.
“You promise you’ll keep track of your drinks?” she asked, not really concerned, but saying it because she had to. I imagined she was probably happy to avoid the up and down journey in exchange for a little risk.
“Scout’s honor,” I said, putting three fingers up in the air as I hoisted another shot in my left hand.
She looked at me funny, like she was going to change her mind about the three quarter full bottle on the table, but she smiled instead, and headed back inside where I kept catching hints of French being spoken.
Must be Canadians, I thought, gazing out over the water, wondering how cold it was and how far out I could swim. At that time of year, still cold, but I bet I could make it out a couple miles, maybe more. The return trip would be a bitch, but that might not be necessary. I sat, I dreamed, and I drank. Just another day.
I sloshed the quarter remnant around in the bottle, the bitter taste of the booze long gone. As I watched the brown waves inside the squared glass cage, my ears perked in and out, like a radio receiving bit of broken traffic. The incoming news might’ve disturbed someone else, like someone who actually cared, but I didn’t. I had my ocean and John Daniels. Maybe the minor annoyance would go away.
A couple minutes later a brunette walked outside. She pretended to be looking at the view, but I saw her cook eyes wander over me more than once. She could’ve been looking at my messy blonde hair or my scruffy beard, but she wasn’t. All legs and tight clothing, the girl was on the downswing from hot. She’d had her day for sure, but I sensed the tired crow’s feet highlighting her eyes, and took in the high heeled sandals that had definitely seen better days. She was a like a Barbie doll who was cast aside after four or five years of spirited play at the hands of a toddler.
I kept swirling the bottle and refilling my plastic cup. Three drinks later, she came over.
“Do you have a light?” she asked.
I didn’t look up.
“No, sorry.”
That didn’t change her course.
“Mind if I have a drink?”
I shrugged and handed her the bottle. She was either mustering up courage or trying to add to her new hard look, because she ignored the extra plastic cups on the table and drank straight from the bottle. No flinch. No hard swallow. A pro…like me.
“Thanks,” she said, handing the nearly empty bottle back. “Mind if I have a seat?”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” I said, “Just enjoying the view and then it’s back to the train.”
She stiffened just perceptibly, but then played it off by putting her hand on my shoulder. I kept swirling the bottle.
“Are you sure you don’t want some company?”
I raised the bottle again, a peace offering.
“Take this, I’m done.”
When I looked up there was fire in her eyes, her pretty little nostrils flared. She stood there for a minute. I could see her thinking. No, not a pro, a wannabe, I thought.
Miss Past-Her-Prime stepped back and slammed the bottle onto the ground. It didn’t shatter like she’d probably expected. The best she got was a split at point where the neck met the body of the glass container. That seems to rile her further.
“How dare you touch me!” she screamed. “I’m calling the cops!”
I sat back and looked up at her, smiling like it was exactly what I wanted.
“Be my guest. I’ll be right here.”
By this time the French Canadian babble from the inside had stopped. I heard chairs scraping and then heavy footsteps like a little troupe stomping my way.
The girl grinned. “You’re in trouble now.”
Five guys appeared at the doorway. I’d seen them when I came in. Local meatheads, or maybe traveling meatheads. There was a tall skinny guy with his flat-billed ball cap turned sideways. Then were the two guys who looked like twins, their necks as big as my thigh. The last two were the most drunk, sporting matching hockey jerseys, still sipping on their beers, pointing at me and whispering in each others ears like I couldn’t hear them.
“Is there a problem?” the tall guy asked the girl.
“Yeah, this guy just grabbed my ass and then said he wanted to bend me over the table.”
The two drunk guys laughed and whispered some more, but the other three stepped forward.
“Hold on,” I said, putting up my hands in a T like a wanted a timeout. “What’s your name?” I asked the girl.
She made a face like she wasn’t going to answer, then said, “Tiffany.”
“Tell me, Tiffany, which one of these guys bent you over a table before I came in for a quiet drink?” I was watching the meatheads, and the tall guy’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, let me guess. The tall asshole with the stupid hat, right?”
Tiffany’s eyes narrowed too. “How dare you…”
“No. How dare you, Tiffany. All I wanted was a few drinks and some time to enjoy the view. Now I have to deal with your trampy ass, these guys are musting the air with their guido cologne, and you ruined the last of my bottle.”
Again, not the response she’d expected. Her eyes darted to her most recent lover, a plea for assistance.
The collective stepped closer. They were now eight feet from where I was lounging in my chair. I didn’t have any weapons, and to give them a little credit, it didn’t look like they did either. By the looks of the hands on the muscle-bound twins, their first usually did the heavy lifting.
Mr. Tall took another step towards me as the girl moved out of the way.
“You got any money on you?” he asked.
“Some,” I answered truthfully.
“How much is some?”
“Fifty seven dollars and sixty two cents.”
Mr. Tall snorted. The drunk duo snickered. Thick Neck One and Two stared at me.
“You always know exactly how much you have in your pocket?” Mr. Tall asked, grinning at his friends like I was the weird one.
“Sometimes,” I said. “You always hang out with the whore you’re tag-teaming with the ambiguously gay duo?” I asked, pointing at the drunks. That stopped the giggling.
“You know what, I was gonna let you off with a little toll, but now I think we’re gonna beat your ass and drag you down to the ATM.”
I shrugged and almost went to grab for the bottle that was no longer on the table. I laughed at my slip, and for show, I half staggered to my feet. John Daniels had done his job, and my body was warm and steady, no shakes, just calm.
“Sorry fellas, but I’ve gotta catch a train,” I said, reaching into my pocket so I could pay my tab.
“You’re not going anywhere, asshole,” said Thick Neck Number One.
My eyes widened in surprise. “It speaks!” Grinning like an idiot, I raised my hands in surrender. “Fine, you win. Like Tiffany over there, I’m lover, not a fighter.”
That brought back the giggles from the drunkos, and a shared look between Mr. Tall and Tiffany. Thick Neck Number One stepped forward. His arms lowered, his guard coming down as I staggered a bit to the left. Bad move Thick Neck.
I shifted my weight back, like I was going to staggered into the railing, but just as quickly, I shifted my momentum, my raised boot shooting in a downward angle, every ounce of my adrenaline screaming forward. My boot caught the side of Thick Neck Number One’s bow-legged knee. I felt the crunch, and moved to the left as he came crashing down. Mr. Tall’s jaw dropped open and I took that as a perfect opportunity to close it for him, courtesy of a driving uppercut. He went up on his toes, his eyes already rolling back in his head, and then he joined his buddy on the ground. Two down, three to go.
Thick Neck Number Two actually snorted like a bull and charged, his arms wide ready to body slam me in to the wooden planks that I’d served up as beds for his companions. He was close, but I waited until the last possible nano-second. Then I dropped to my knees and punched out with both of my fists. I was hoping that the guy didn’t juice too much because I wanted to connected with what remained of his family jewels. Luck was with me and not with him.
He still bowled me over, but not before he’d received a double blast to his most prized possessions. His hands went to his midsection as I pushed him off, rolling to my feet to face the last two. They stood there like morons, unable to make a decision as they stared at their friends on the ground.
“Who’s next?” I asked.
They looked at each other like Dweedle Dee and Dweedle Dumb, and bolted for the door.
Then it was just me and Tiffany standing. I ignored her and searched Mr. Tall’s pockets. There was a pitiful wad of cash and a set of keys. I pocketed the cash and chucked the keys off the pier. The Thick Neck Twins at least had a few twenties each, and neither seemed to care as I stripped them of it.
Tiffany watched me do it, but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t until I was finished, my backpack over one shoulder, that she actually spoke.
“What are you a ninja or something?”
There wasn’t a hint of fear in her voice. She was used to being in the middle of a raucus.
“No, just a Marine.”
I stepped over Mr. Tall, who was just groaning back to consciousness, and went to pay for the bottle of Jack. From there it was either a swim out to see or a warm shower in a cheap motel. Maybe this time I’d leave it up to a flip of a coin to decide. I didn’t care either way.
Until then, get some more free stuff and see what's going on in Corps Justice land below.
Don't forget to go to the bottom of this post and read the first chapter (unedited) of Fallen to get your fix.
Semper Fidelis,
CGC Designed Just For You Thanks to some motivated readers who prodded me for more Corps Justice stuff, I came up with a new manifesto and a couple posters for you guys. There's simple and there's retro-ish. Now, I did the writing, but someone much snazzier than me did the designing. Feel free to copy them, print them, share them on social media, or send them to your congressman.
I hope to have some fancy posters made soon, and even some more versions, but for now you can swipe the files and use them as you wish.
Just click on the images to download. Enjoy.
A Huge Thanks The release of Papal Justice was our most successful to date. Thanks to everyone who bought a copy. If you haven't gotten a copy yet, all the links to purchase are HERE. If you've read it and haven't written a review, please consider doing so. Reviews fuel the success of these novels. The Zimmer Doctrine (Book 11) Just got the new cover done for the upcoming eleventh book of the main Corps Justice series. Check it out along with the book blurb. Expect an early Fall release. A world unraveling from within... A president ready to challenge his enemies...
A warrior who is needed, but is lost in his misery...
The Middle East. Asia. Europe. South America. Everywhere President Brandon Zimmer looks there is corruption and the threat of spreading gloom. With a world economy teetering from instability within the European Union and the Chinese financial system, hidden powers seek to capitalize on this weakness, and harness it for their own gain.
While The Zimmer Doctrine stands as a beacon against said enemy, its architect still needs his most important ally at his side. But rocked with personal loss and a nagging sense of doubt and inevitability, Cal Stokes may no longer be the man to stand with his friend, or to lead his warriors at The Jefferson Group. What does the future hold for this once stalwart patriot?
Unedited Excerpt From Fallen
(CAUTION: The following contains unedited material that may be unsuitable for the grammatically inclined.) Chapter 1 Old Orchard Beach, Maine
A seagull screeched overhead as I downed the shot of Jack Daniels from a cheap plastic shot glass. The vessel matched my surroundings, suitable but far from grand. I’d arrived in Old Orchard Beach just after one o’clock in the afternoon. No real reason, other than the fact that I wanted to get off the Amtrak train and stretch my legs. Getting a few drinks and some food was a bonus, but the plan was to walk right back to the platform and keep heading north when I was done.
I asked a local where I could get a good view of the ocean, and the guy told me the best you could get was on the Pier. “But stay away from the Pier Patio Pub,” the guy had said, “It’s not good for tourists this time of year.”
I’d ignored his second recommendation and headed straight for the Pub. The guy was right. The place was full of locals, and every head turned when I walked in and asked for a table with a view. The hostess pointed to the stairs and said I could pick any spot I wanted.
The good news was that my table did overlook the Atlantic, and the mid-May sky was fresh and clean, like someone had given it a good scrub and left me with a squeaky clear view. I love the water, always had. Along with my good friend John Daniels, they were the two best things I had going. Not a bad deal considering what I’d been through.
Despite being the only obvious out-of-towner in the joint, the waitress was attentive and soon brought out a bottle of Jack when I slipped her a twenty.
“You promise you’ll keep track of your drinks?” she asked, not really concerned, but saying it because she had to. I imagined she was probably happy to avoid the up and down journey in exchange for a little risk.
“Scout’s honor,” I said, putting three fingers up in the air as I hoisted another shot in my left hand.
She looked at me funny, like she was going to change her mind about the three quarter full bottle on the table, but she smiled instead, and headed back inside where I kept catching hints of French being spoken.
Must be Canadians, I thought, gazing out over the water, wondering how cold it was and how far out I could swim. At that time of year, still cold, but I bet I could make it out a couple miles, maybe more. The return trip would be a bitch, but that might not be necessary. I sat, I dreamed, and I drank. Just another day.
I sloshed the quarter remnant around in the bottle, the bitter taste of the booze long gone. As I watched the brown waves inside the squared glass cage, my ears perked in and out, like a radio receiving bit of broken traffic. The incoming news might’ve disturbed someone else, like someone who actually cared, but I didn’t. I had my ocean and John Daniels. Maybe the minor annoyance would go away.
A couple minutes later a brunette walked outside. She pretended to be looking at the view, but I saw her cook eyes wander over me more than once. She could’ve been looking at my messy blonde hair or my scruffy beard, but she wasn’t. All legs and tight clothing, the girl was on the downswing from hot. She’d had her day for sure, but I sensed the tired crow’s feet highlighting her eyes, and took in the high heeled sandals that had definitely seen better days. She was a like a Barbie doll who was cast aside after four or five years of spirited play at the hands of a toddler.
I kept swirling the bottle and refilling my plastic cup. Three drinks later, she came over.
“Do you have a light?” she asked.
I didn’t look up.
“No, sorry.”
That didn’t change her course.
“Mind if I have a drink?”
I shrugged and handed her the bottle. She was either mustering up courage or trying to add to her new hard look, because she ignored the extra plastic cups on the table and drank straight from the bottle. No flinch. No hard swallow. A pro…like me.
“Thanks,” she said, handing the nearly empty bottle back. “Mind if I have a seat?”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” I said, “Just enjoying the view and then it’s back to the train.”
She stiffened just perceptibly, but then played it off by putting her hand on my shoulder. I kept swirling the bottle.
“Are you sure you don’t want some company?”
I raised the bottle again, a peace offering.
“Take this, I’m done.”
When I looked up there was fire in her eyes, her pretty little nostrils flared. She stood there for a minute. I could see her thinking. No, not a pro, a wannabe, I thought.
Miss Past-Her-Prime stepped back and slammed the bottle onto the ground. It didn’t shatter like she’d probably expected. The best she got was a split at point where the neck met the body of the glass container. That seems to rile her further.
“How dare you touch me!” she screamed. “I’m calling the cops!”
I sat back and looked up at her, smiling like it was exactly what I wanted.
“Be my guest. I’ll be right here.”
By this time the French Canadian babble from the inside had stopped. I heard chairs scraping and then heavy footsteps like a little troupe stomping my way.
The girl grinned. “You’re in trouble now.”
Five guys appeared at the doorway. I’d seen them when I came in. Local meatheads, or maybe traveling meatheads. There was a tall skinny guy with his flat-billed ball cap turned sideways. Then were the two guys who looked like twins, their necks as big as my thigh. The last two were the most drunk, sporting matching hockey jerseys, still sipping on their beers, pointing at me and whispering in each others ears like I couldn’t hear them.
“Is there a problem?” the tall guy asked the girl.
“Yeah, this guy just grabbed my ass and then said he wanted to bend me over the table.”
The two drunk guys laughed and whispered some more, but the other three stepped forward.
“Hold on,” I said, putting up my hands in a T like a wanted a timeout. “What’s your name?” I asked the girl.
She made a face like she wasn’t going to answer, then said, “Tiffany.”
“Tell me, Tiffany, which one of these guys bent you over a table before I came in for a quiet drink?” I was watching the meatheads, and the tall guy’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, let me guess. The tall asshole with the stupid hat, right?”
Tiffany’s eyes narrowed too. “How dare you…”
“No. How dare you, Tiffany. All I wanted was a few drinks and some time to enjoy the view. Now I have to deal with your trampy ass, these guys are musting the air with their guido cologne, and you ruined the last of my bottle.”
Again, not the response she’d expected. Her eyes darted to her most recent lover, a plea for assistance.
The collective stepped closer. They were now eight feet from where I was lounging in my chair. I didn’t have any weapons, and to give them a little credit, it didn’t look like they did either. By the looks of the hands on the muscle-bound twins, their first usually did the heavy lifting.
Mr. Tall took another step towards me as the girl moved out of the way.
“You got any money on you?” he asked.
“Some,” I answered truthfully.
“How much is some?”
“Fifty seven dollars and sixty two cents.”
Mr. Tall snorted. The drunk duo snickered. Thick Neck One and Two stared at me.
“You always know exactly how much you have in your pocket?” Mr. Tall asked, grinning at his friends like I was the weird one.
“Sometimes,” I said. “You always hang out with the whore you’re tag-teaming with the ambiguously gay duo?” I asked, pointing at the drunks. That stopped the giggling.
“You know what, I was gonna let you off with a little toll, but now I think we’re gonna beat your ass and drag you down to the ATM.”
I shrugged and almost went to grab for the bottle that was no longer on the table. I laughed at my slip, and for show, I half staggered to my feet. John Daniels had done his job, and my body was warm and steady, no shakes, just calm.
“Sorry fellas, but I’ve gotta catch a train,” I said, reaching into my pocket so I could pay my tab.
“You’re not going anywhere, asshole,” said Thick Neck Number One.
My eyes widened in surprise. “It speaks!” Grinning like an idiot, I raised my hands in surrender. “Fine, you win. Like Tiffany over there, I’m lover, not a fighter.”
That brought back the giggles from the drunkos, and a shared look between Mr. Tall and Tiffany. Thick Neck Number One stepped forward. His arms lowered, his guard coming down as I staggered a bit to the left. Bad move Thick Neck.
I shifted my weight back, like I was going to staggered into the railing, but just as quickly, I shifted my momentum, my raised boot shooting in a downward angle, every ounce of my adrenaline screaming forward. My boot caught the side of Thick Neck Number One’s bow-legged knee. I felt the crunch, and moved to the left as he came crashing down. Mr. Tall’s jaw dropped open and I took that as a perfect opportunity to close it for him, courtesy of a driving uppercut. He went up on his toes, his eyes already rolling back in his head, and then he joined his buddy on the ground. Two down, three to go.
Thick Neck Number Two actually snorted like a bull and charged, his arms wide ready to body slam me in to the wooden planks that I’d served up as beds for his companions. He was close, but I waited until the last possible nano-second. Then I dropped to my knees and punched out with both of my fists. I was hoping that the guy didn’t juice too much because I wanted to connected with what remained of his family jewels. Luck was with me and not with him.
He still bowled me over, but not before he’d received a double blast to his most prized possessions. His hands went to his midsection as I pushed him off, rolling to my feet to face the last two. They stood there like morons, unable to make a decision as they stared at their friends on the ground.
“Who’s next?” I asked.
They looked at each other like Dweedle Dee and Dweedle Dumb, and bolted for the door.
Then it was just me and Tiffany standing. I ignored her and searched Mr. Tall’s pockets. There was a pitiful wad of cash and a set of keys. I pocketed the cash and chucked the keys off the pier. The Thick Neck Twins at least had a few twenties each, and neither seemed to care as I stripped them of it.
Tiffany watched me do it, but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t until I was finished, my backpack over one shoulder, that she actually spoke.
“What are you a ninja or something?”
There wasn’t a hint of fear in her voice. She was used to being in the middle of a raucus.
“No, just a Marine.”
I stepped over Mr. Tall, who was just groaning back to consciousness, and went to pay for the bottle of Jack. From there it was either a swim out to see or a warm shower in a cheap motel. Maybe this time I’d leave it up to a flip of a coin to decide. I didn’t care either way.
June 19, 2015
The New Corps Justice Novel Is Live!
Papal Justice (Book #10) Is Here! You've waited long enough. For your continued loyalty and friendship, I've priced Papal Justice at just 99-cents (US$) for the next couple days. Don't wait. Get your copy now and consider sending one to a friend. Here are the links:
Amazon U.S.
Amazon UK
Amazon CA
Amazon AU
Barnes & Noble
Apple
Google
Kobo
And I almost forgot! If you're one of the first 20 readers to email me your honest review of Papal Justice, I will mail you a free Corps Justice decal just for being such a hard-charger. Make sure you include your mailing address so I know where to send it. Get Chain of Command (#9) For 99-cents! As a second super thanks, I've set Chain of Command at only 99-cents for a limited time. Get a copy now before it reverts to full price. Here are the links:
Amazon U.S.
Amazon UK
Amazon CA
Amazon AU
Barnes & Noble
Apple
Google
Kobo
Private Facebook Group Since Facebook keeps changing the rules, I've opened a private group for those of you who want more interaction with me and other readers. If you're interested, go HERE, and request an invite. Next Two Books Over the next month I'll be finishing up the new Daniel Briggs novel, Fallen. Look for an August release. The next full Corps Justice novel will be The Zimmer Doctrine. I'd love to get that one out before the end of September.
Thanks again for all the support and encouragement. You guys keep me going. Enjoy Papal Justice and let me know what you think.
(Reminder: no spoilers in comments or reviews)
Semper Fidelis,
CGC
Amazon U.S.
Amazon UK
Amazon CA
Amazon AU
Barnes & Noble
Apple
Kobo
And I almost forgot! If you're one of the first 20 readers to email me your honest review of Papal Justice, I will mail you a free Corps Justice decal just for being such a hard-charger. Make sure you include your mailing address so I know where to send it. Get Chain of Command (#9) For 99-cents! As a second super thanks, I've set Chain of Command at only 99-cents for a limited time. Get a copy now before it reverts to full price. Here are the links:Amazon U.S.
Amazon UK
Amazon CA
Amazon AU
Barnes & Noble
Apple
Kobo
Private Facebook Group Since Facebook keeps changing the rules, I've opened a private group for those of you who want more interaction with me and other readers. If you're interested, go HERE, and request an invite. Next Two Books Over the next month I'll be finishing up the new Daniel Briggs novel, Fallen. Look for an August release. The next full Corps Justice novel will be The Zimmer Doctrine. I'd love to get that one out before the end of September. Thanks again for all the support and encouragement. You guys keep me going. Enjoy Papal Justice and let me know what you think.
(Reminder: no spoilers in comments or reviews)
Semper Fidelis,
CGC
May 22, 2015
Corps Justice Memorial Day Updates
NEW FREE BOX SET I'm excited to let you all know that I've bundled the first two Corps Justice novels (which most of you have already read) with the first two novels from my good friend L.T. Ryan. We're calling the collaboration Noble Justice. He's a big reason I've gotten to where I am now, and if you haven't read his stuff, check it out today. Get a FREE copy of the box set now. Here are the links:
Amazon US: http://bit.ly/1Bh5Tt6
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1K9TY5w
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1Rav75D
Apple: Coming Soon.
PAPAL JUSTICE Good news. We just wrapped up the first draft of Papal Justice and next week begins the proofing and editing phase. The plan is to publish the new novel by June 20th. It's the longest Corps Justice novel to date, and the Novels Live crew and I had a blast building it. There are plenty of twists and turns to keep you reading late into the night. Can't wait to get it into your hands. 
FALLEN Next week I begin the second book in the Daniel Briggs saga. Check out the new cover and the blurb below... 
I lost track of the drinks...
Deeper and deeper I go...
This next stop may be my last...
Another town, another problem. Former Marine Daniel Briggs slips from locale to locale, the haze a comforting pillow, but inevitably the chips fall hard.
Daniel finds himself in Maine, courtesy of a small hamlet called Old Orchard Beach. While everything seems quaint on the surface, the veteran sniper soon finds himself pitted between two evils. Which one will he choose...or which one will choose him?
NEW DECALS We've got some new decals for the rock bottom price of $1.99 (includes shipping). Get yours HERE.
ALL THE NOVELS We have a lot of new team members and I know some of you are wondering where to find all the Corps Justice novels. Here they are in order, and all the links to purchase from the main site are HERE, or click on any of the book covers below. 
#1 
#2 
#3 
#4 
#5 
#6 
#7 
#8 
#9 DANIEL BRIGGS NOVELS
#1 MEMORIAL DAY
I hope you all have a safe Memorial Day weekend. Don't forget to pause for a second and say a silent thanks to those who paid the ultimate price.
Semper Fi,
CGC
Amazon US: http://bit.ly/1Bh5Tt6
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1K9TY5w
Kobo: http://bit.ly/1Rav75D
Apple: Coming Soon.
PAPAL JUSTICE Good news. We just wrapped up the first draft of Papal Justice and next week begins the proofing and editing phase. The plan is to publish the new novel by June 20th. It's the longest Corps Justice novel to date, and the Novels Live crew and I had a blast building it. There are plenty of twists and turns to keep you reading late into the night. Can't wait to get it into your hands. FALLEN Next week I begin the second book in the Daniel Briggs saga. Check out the new cover and the blurb below... I lost track of the drinks... Deeper and deeper I go...
This next stop may be my last...
Another town, another problem. Former Marine Daniel Briggs slips from locale to locale, the haze a comforting pillow, but inevitably the chips fall hard.
Daniel finds himself in Maine, courtesy of a small hamlet called Old Orchard Beach. While everything seems quaint on the surface, the veteran sniper soon finds himself pitted between two evils. Which one will he choose...or which one will choose him?
NEW DECALS We've got some new decals for the rock bottom price of $1.99 (includes shipping). Get yours HERE.
ALL THE NOVELS We have a lot of new team members and I know some of you are wondering where to find all the Corps Justice novels. Here they are in order, and all the links to purchase from the main site are HERE, or click on any of the book covers below. #1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #6 #7 #8 #9 DANIEL BRIGGS NOVELS #1 MEMORIAL DAYI hope you all have a safe Memorial Day weekend. Don't forget to pause for a second and say a silent thanks to those who paid the ultimate price.
Semper Fi,
CGC
April 16, 2015
Corps Justice Giveaway, Excerpt and More...
Let's start with something new. I've always wanted to try a giveaway with you guys. Another way to say thanks for all the amazing support. If this round goes well we'll do it again. So here's what I'm giving away to start: 
Small Tactical Ruck 
Survival Knife w/ Fire Starter 
EGA Car Emblem
What Do You Have To Do To Enter?
It's really easy. If you're subscribed to Corps Justice updates, you already get 5 entries just by verifying that you're part of the team!
Then you can add more entries for tweeting about the giveaway, referring your friends, and more.
Make sure you check back every couple days because I'll be adding ways to increase your chances of winning. Oh, and if you guys show me you're into it, I'll even see if we can add some more prizes.
The giveaway starts now and ends Midnight U.S. Central time on Friday, April 19th. So don't wait. Enter HERE: https://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/329230db6/? Other News...
Thanks to the help of some Corps Justice VIPs, I've recently completed the second installment of The Chronicles of Benjamin Dragon. For those of you who don't know about it, it's about a kid who discovers he has "gifts". It's fantasy-ish, but not with dragons and wizards.
I wrote the first book so I could actually read something I'd written to my kids. Turns out some other people liked it too.
As a thanks to all my friends, I've lowered the price to 99-cents (USD) for a couple of days. It's appropriate for all ages, so feel free to get the family involved. Here are the links to purchase now:
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1PO73pw
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00VYWILPY
Amazon CA: http://www.amazon.ca/dp/B00VYWILPY
Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id985095954
B&N: Coming Soon...
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/benjamin-dragon-legacy Papal Justice Excerpt The first draft of Papal Justice is well underway. Here's an unedited taste for you...
(CAUTION: The following contains unedited material that may be unsuitable for the grammatically inclined) Chapter One Zapata District
Acapulco, Mexico
12:06am, March 11th
Father Pietro wiped a bead of sweat with the sleeve of his black cassock and leaned against the crumbling concrete wall. The muggy blanket of Mexican steam felt even more intense despite the late hour. Maybe it was the booze. As he stopped to catch his breath, he heard singing in the distance, capped by the distinctive tenor of Father Josef, the head of their small church.
Father Pietro pulled the small bottle of rum out of his pocket and took a burning gulp. He relished the heat moving down his throat as he listened to the hymns signaling the start of the midnight mass. He said a silent prayer of thanks for the bartender who’d given him the bottle, on the house of course. No doubt the man thought it would usher him into heaven when the time came. If that was the man’s wish, who was Father Pietro to disagree? He’d seen all manner of wonders since arriving in Mexico, none of them of the miraculous nature.
Five-year-old drug runners. Nine-year-old prostitutes. Thirteen-year-old cartel enforcers. They were supposed to be his flock, but his gifts had done little to bring them in. Instead, it was Father Josef’s love of music that had persuading a trickle, then a steady flow of new parishioners to join their young community. “Music,” Father Josef had said, “has the power to touch the hearts of even the most lost of God’s flock.”
When Pietro thought of Father Josef, he hiccuped a giggle. Josef had admonished him on more than one occasion for being late or missing an event completely. But what could Pietro do? He knew his weaknesses, had admitted them to Josef. And although he tried his best to improve, to wipe away his sins, he knew in his soul that it would take a momentous occasion to turn him from the bottle. It was, after all, the least of so many sins.
Father Pietro was a good man. The poor of Acapulco loved to hear his stories, and even stopped by to say hello when they were passing through. He’d found a home of sorts, but missed his home in Italy almost every minute of every day.
He sighed and took another drink before tossing the empty bottle into a pile of trash overflowing from the curb and into the street. The Catholic priest moved on down the dusty sidewalk before the flies he’d disturbed took their wrath out on him. Dealing with Father Josef would be bad enough. At least now he would have some liquid courage. Thank the Lord for the smallest blessings.
Father Pietro was just rounding the last corner, a block before the squat church building came into view, when the squeezing of old breaks filled the street. He’d been caught in more than his share of shootings, and knew this could be another. He hid behind a dented blue dumpster and watched as men poured from three cars and a pair of oversized delivery vans. His chest went tight when he saw where they were going, straight into the midnight mass at La Iglesia De La Virgen Bendecida (The Church of The Blessed Virgin).
The screams followed, but were silenced by two gunshots. Father Pietro trembled, mouthing a prayer, his drunken haze gone. Two more shots sounded, snatching the prayer from his lips. There was shouting, and he could just barely make out a few words, “No one move,” and “Quiet that baby.”
He had to do something, but what? Thankfully whoever was in charge of replacing streetlights in the neighborhood had never done so. Cloaked in black he would be very hard to see. It would be easy to turn and run. No one could fault him if he went to find help. But who would he seek? The police would be of little help at this time of night. They knew the risks of roaming the streets at this late hour as much as common citizens.
Despite his other flaws, Father Pietro was no coward. He’d served in the Italian army before finding God and The Church. He’d killed other men and nearly lost his own life. Dying wasn’t something he was afraid of. He’d faced it before and somehow come out unscathed.
Swallowing what was left of his apprehension, Pietro picked a point across the street, and sprinted their as quickly, and quietly, as he could. After taking another hiding spot at the corner, his heart in his throat, his breath coming in gulps, Father Pietro looked down the block. The sentries were still standing in the same spot, one looking down the road and the other watching the front door of the church.
Thank you, Lord.
Now that he was on the same side of the street as the church, he had more options. One of the benefits of his late night binges, was that he knew the area well. He’d snuck into the rented apartments he and his four fellow priests lived in next door to their humble church, on more than one occasion. Without waiting to let his fear get the best of him, Pietro took his familiar path around the building and down the back alley.
Either the attackers didn’t know the back entrance was there, or they didn’t care, because he was happy to find the rear avenue empty. With his right arm almost grazing the wall, he moved quickly to the back door. He slipped his key out of his pocket and into the lock. The door opened with a muted click. Slowly, he pulled the door open and slid into the darkness within. Another blessing that whoever had left the apartment last, had also tuned off the lights.
He could hear more shouting now, the thin walls separating the chapel from the living quarters doing little to muffle the sound. Father Pietro hurried to the small shared bathroom and the discovery he’d made only days before. Whether a product of bad construction, or perhaps the needs of a past tenant, the priest had one day found a loose ceiling tile that allowed anyone who knew it was there, to slide it aside and peek into where the modest chapel now sat.
Now came the sounds of children crying and women pleading. They made him move as fast as he dared, stepping onto the edge of the bathtub and getting his hand on the faded tile overhead. He had to place his other foot on the soap holder across the tub in order to lift himself up. Once he had, he pushed the ceiling tile aside and pulled his head up into the space.
He almost fell when he saw the scene next door. Two bodies lay sprawled on the floor, both heads laying in pools of crimson blood. They were only children. Thankfully he couldn’t see their faces because surely he would have lost his footing. He knew ever person in the congregation.
Other than the men in masks, Father Josef was the only person standing. The rest of his flock were on their knees, cowering from the intruders. After a quick scan of space, Pietro counted at least thirty worshippers on the ground, including the two boys who were already dead.
“All men and boys over five, stand up now,” came the order from one of the masked men. The voice was accented, but not in any Mexican dialect Pietro had ever heard. The man was speaking Spanish, and well, but there were hints of something that tingled the edges of the priest’s brain.
“Please, take me instead,” pleaded Father Josef.
“We don’t need you, old man,” said the man with the AK-47. “I said get up!” He swiveled his weapon at the huddled figures for effect, a handful of young men finally standing. “You too, boy,” he said, pointing at small boy named Francisco.
“He’s only a baby!” wailed his mother, her armed wrapped protectively around her newborn.
The man’s weapon shifted mere inches, and a burst of machine gun fire sent bullets slicing into the mother and her tiny child.
Father Pietro clapped his free hand over his mouth. He knew the mother well, had baptized her baby a week before. In that moment, the Catholic priest wished that he had his rifle back in his hands. At least then he could have done something. He felt hot angry tears streaming down his face.
“Now, who else wants to die?” asked the masked man.
“Please, no more,” said Father Josef, bending down to comfort the boy who’d just become an orphan.
Just then, Father Pietro’s foot slipped, and he barely caught himself from falling, banging his knee against the wall. Every weapon turned. Luckily his head had slipped from view.
“What was that?” Pietro heard the man say.
Father Josef answered quickly. “Bad pipes. They make sounds all night.”
Father Pietro tried to calm his breathing as he waited the extended moment, fully expecting a combined spray of bullets to pierce the wall then his body at any second. They never came.
“Get up, all of you. Boys and men to the door. Women and babies with the priest.”
Pietro heard shuffling, and the murmuring of his people. He had to know what was happening, so he retook his prior position, this time making sure he was more stable on his precarious perch.
The parishioners were doing as ordered, even the two newest priests were over by the front door. Four masked men herded the male group out to the street. The women, babies and two older priests gathered near the makeshift alter.
The leader of the masked men, joined by two of his compatriots, stepped closer. As soon as the front door slammed closed, he lifted off his mask, glaring at Father Josef. “Say your last prayers, priest, because tonight you will meet Allah’s vengeance.”
If the threat frightened the proud priest, he didn’t show it. Instead he nodded, and turned to his people.
“Please kneel, and pray we with.”
Father Pietro watched as they all obeyed, whimpering at the death looming close by, all getting down to their knees with the priest whose magnificent voice had gathered them together.
Father Josef bowed his head and began, joined by what was left of his congregation, “Our, Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name…”
The rest of the words were drowned out by the thundering rattle of machine gun fire, rounds assaulting the bodies of the assembled innocents, blood spraying and bodies slumping in piles. And all Father Pietro could do was watch in horror, fists clenched, hoping that their murder would one day be avenged.
To be continued...
Small Tactical Ruck Survival Knife w/ Fire Starter EGA Car Emblem What Do You Have To Do To Enter?
It's really easy. If you're subscribed to Corps Justice updates, you already get 5 entries just by verifying that you're part of the team!
Then you can add more entries for tweeting about the giveaway, referring your friends, and more.
Make sure you check back every couple days because I'll be adding ways to increase your chances of winning. Oh, and if you guys show me you're into it, I'll even see if we can add some more prizes.
The giveaway starts now and ends Midnight U.S. Central time on Friday, April 19th. So don't wait. Enter HERE: https://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/329230db6/? Other News...
Thanks to the help of some Corps Justice VIPs, I've recently completed the second installment of The Chronicles of Benjamin Dragon. For those of you who don't know about it, it's about a kid who discovers he has "gifts". It's fantasy-ish, but not with dragons and wizards. I wrote the first book so I could actually read something I'd written to my kids. Turns out some other people liked it too.
As a thanks to all my friends, I've lowered the price to 99-cents (USD) for a couple of days. It's appropriate for all ages, so feel free to get the family involved. Here are the links to purchase now:
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1PO73pw
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00VYWILPY
Amazon CA: http://www.amazon.ca/dp/B00VYWILPY
Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id985095954
B&N: Coming Soon...
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/benjamin-dragon-legacy Papal Justice Excerpt The first draft of Papal Justice is well underway. Here's an unedited taste for you...
(CAUTION: The following contains unedited material that may be unsuitable for the grammatically inclined) Chapter One Zapata DistrictAcapulco, Mexico
12:06am, March 11th
Father Pietro wiped a bead of sweat with the sleeve of his black cassock and leaned against the crumbling concrete wall. The muggy blanket of Mexican steam felt even more intense despite the late hour. Maybe it was the booze. As he stopped to catch his breath, he heard singing in the distance, capped by the distinctive tenor of Father Josef, the head of their small church.
Father Pietro pulled the small bottle of rum out of his pocket and took a burning gulp. He relished the heat moving down his throat as he listened to the hymns signaling the start of the midnight mass. He said a silent prayer of thanks for the bartender who’d given him the bottle, on the house of course. No doubt the man thought it would usher him into heaven when the time came. If that was the man’s wish, who was Father Pietro to disagree? He’d seen all manner of wonders since arriving in Mexico, none of them of the miraculous nature.
Five-year-old drug runners. Nine-year-old prostitutes. Thirteen-year-old cartel enforcers. They were supposed to be his flock, but his gifts had done little to bring them in. Instead, it was Father Josef’s love of music that had persuading a trickle, then a steady flow of new parishioners to join their young community. “Music,” Father Josef had said, “has the power to touch the hearts of even the most lost of God’s flock.”
When Pietro thought of Father Josef, he hiccuped a giggle. Josef had admonished him on more than one occasion for being late or missing an event completely. But what could Pietro do? He knew his weaknesses, had admitted them to Josef. And although he tried his best to improve, to wipe away his sins, he knew in his soul that it would take a momentous occasion to turn him from the bottle. It was, after all, the least of so many sins.
Father Pietro was a good man. The poor of Acapulco loved to hear his stories, and even stopped by to say hello when they were passing through. He’d found a home of sorts, but missed his home in Italy almost every minute of every day.
He sighed and took another drink before tossing the empty bottle into a pile of trash overflowing from the curb and into the street. The Catholic priest moved on down the dusty sidewalk before the flies he’d disturbed took their wrath out on him. Dealing with Father Josef would be bad enough. At least now he would have some liquid courage. Thank the Lord for the smallest blessings.
Father Pietro was just rounding the last corner, a block before the squat church building came into view, when the squeezing of old breaks filled the street. He’d been caught in more than his share of shootings, and knew this could be another. He hid behind a dented blue dumpster and watched as men poured from three cars and a pair of oversized delivery vans. His chest went tight when he saw where they were going, straight into the midnight mass at La Iglesia De La Virgen Bendecida (The Church of The Blessed Virgin).
The screams followed, but were silenced by two gunshots. Father Pietro trembled, mouthing a prayer, his drunken haze gone. Two more shots sounded, snatching the prayer from his lips. There was shouting, and he could just barely make out a few words, “No one move,” and “Quiet that baby.”
He had to do something, but what? Thankfully whoever was in charge of replacing streetlights in the neighborhood had never done so. Cloaked in black he would be very hard to see. It would be easy to turn and run. No one could fault him if he went to find help. But who would he seek? The police would be of little help at this time of night. They knew the risks of roaming the streets at this late hour as much as common citizens.
Despite his other flaws, Father Pietro was no coward. He’d served in the Italian army before finding God and The Church. He’d killed other men and nearly lost his own life. Dying wasn’t something he was afraid of. He’d faced it before and somehow come out unscathed.
Swallowing what was left of his apprehension, Pietro picked a point across the street, and sprinted their as quickly, and quietly, as he could. After taking another hiding spot at the corner, his heart in his throat, his breath coming in gulps, Father Pietro looked down the block. The sentries were still standing in the same spot, one looking down the road and the other watching the front door of the church.
Thank you, Lord.
Now that he was on the same side of the street as the church, he had more options. One of the benefits of his late night binges, was that he knew the area well. He’d snuck into the rented apartments he and his four fellow priests lived in next door to their humble church, on more than one occasion. Without waiting to let his fear get the best of him, Pietro took his familiar path around the building and down the back alley.
Either the attackers didn’t know the back entrance was there, or they didn’t care, because he was happy to find the rear avenue empty. With his right arm almost grazing the wall, he moved quickly to the back door. He slipped his key out of his pocket and into the lock. The door opened with a muted click. Slowly, he pulled the door open and slid into the darkness within. Another blessing that whoever had left the apartment last, had also tuned off the lights.
He could hear more shouting now, the thin walls separating the chapel from the living quarters doing little to muffle the sound. Father Pietro hurried to the small shared bathroom and the discovery he’d made only days before. Whether a product of bad construction, or perhaps the needs of a past tenant, the priest had one day found a loose ceiling tile that allowed anyone who knew it was there, to slide it aside and peek into where the modest chapel now sat.
Now came the sounds of children crying and women pleading. They made him move as fast as he dared, stepping onto the edge of the bathtub and getting his hand on the faded tile overhead. He had to place his other foot on the soap holder across the tub in order to lift himself up. Once he had, he pushed the ceiling tile aside and pulled his head up into the space.
He almost fell when he saw the scene next door. Two bodies lay sprawled on the floor, both heads laying in pools of crimson blood. They were only children. Thankfully he couldn’t see their faces because surely he would have lost his footing. He knew ever person in the congregation.
Other than the men in masks, Father Josef was the only person standing. The rest of his flock were on their knees, cowering from the intruders. After a quick scan of space, Pietro counted at least thirty worshippers on the ground, including the two boys who were already dead.
“All men and boys over five, stand up now,” came the order from one of the masked men. The voice was accented, but not in any Mexican dialect Pietro had ever heard. The man was speaking Spanish, and well, but there were hints of something that tingled the edges of the priest’s brain.
“Please, take me instead,” pleaded Father Josef.
“We don’t need you, old man,” said the man with the AK-47. “I said get up!” He swiveled his weapon at the huddled figures for effect, a handful of young men finally standing. “You too, boy,” he said, pointing at small boy named Francisco.
“He’s only a baby!” wailed his mother, her armed wrapped protectively around her newborn.
The man’s weapon shifted mere inches, and a burst of machine gun fire sent bullets slicing into the mother and her tiny child.
Father Pietro clapped his free hand over his mouth. He knew the mother well, had baptized her baby a week before. In that moment, the Catholic priest wished that he had his rifle back in his hands. At least then he could have done something. He felt hot angry tears streaming down his face.
“Now, who else wants to die?” asked the masked man.
“Please, no more,” said Father Josef, bending down to comfort the boy who’d just become an orphan.
Just then, Father Pietro’s foot slipped, and he barely caught himself from falling, banging his knee against the wall. Every weapon turned. Luckily his head had slipped from view.
“What was that?” Pietro heard the man say.
Father Josef answered quickly. “Bad pipes. They make sounds all night.”
Father Pietro tried to calm his breathing as he waited the extended moment, fully expecting a combined spray of bullets to pierce the wall then his body at any second. They never came.
“Get up, all of you. Boys and men to the door. Women and babies with the priest.”
Pietro heard shuffling, and the murmuring of his people. He had to know what was happening, so he retook his prior position, this time making sure he was more stable on his precarious perch.
The parishioners were doing as ordered, even the two newest priests were over by the front door. Four masked men herded the male group out to the street. The women, babies and two older priests gathered near the makeshift alter.
The leader of the masked men, joined by two of his compatriots, stepped closer. As soon as the front door slammed closed, he lifted off his mask, glaring at Father Josef. “Say your last prayers, priest, because tonight you will meet Allah’s vengeance.”
If the threat frightened the proud priest, he didn’t show it. Instead he nodded, and turned to his people.
“Please kneel, and pray we with.”
Father Pietro watched as they all obeyed, whimpering at the death looming close by, all getting down to their knees with the priest whose magnificent voice had gathered them together.
Father Josef bowed his head and began, joined by what was left of his congregation, “Our, Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name…”
The rest of the words were drowned out by the thundering rattle of machine gun fire, rounds assaulting the bodies of the assembled innocents, blood spraying and bodies slumping in piles. And all Father Pietro could do was watch in horror, fists clenched, hoping that their murder would one day be avenged.
To be continued...
March 16, 2015
Uh Oh. A New Corps Justice Novel Is Coming
Chain of Command Update First, I want to give a huge thanks to you all for making
Chain of Command
the biggest Corps Justice release to date. I could not have done it without you.
If you haven't gotten a copy yet, it's still under retail for $2.99. Here's where to find the links: http://www.corpsjustice.com/novels.html
If you've read it and liked it, please leave a review on whichever platform you bought it from. Every review helps!
Book Ten Cometh... After a six-week detour to write the second Benjamin Dragon installment, I'm ready to get back in the saddle for the next Corps Justice novel. Drum roll please... I'm pretty excited about this one. I took your comments and rolled them into what will be another thrilling romp with the Corps Justice warriors. As a Corps Justice VIP, you get the first look at the new cover. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the cover for Papal Justice.
In case you were wondering what it's going to be about (oh, and don't forget that you can be part of the Novels Live team helping me write it), here's the draft book blurb: Kidnappings and brutal killings in Mexico...
A border problem that the United States won't fix...
A pope and a president faced with a common enemy...
What if the Pope and the Roman Catholic Church had a secret order of warriors monks who could do their bidding? And what if said order was tasked, by the Pope himself, to find the terrorists who were not only focused on killing Catholic priests, but using them to gain entry into the United States?
The Holy See approaches U.S. President Brandon Zimmer with his dilemma, asking for assistance in the matter. Who else would Zimmer choose to aid the warrior monks other than former Marine, Cal Stokes, and his team at The Jefferson Group?
If you haven't gotten a copy yet, it's still under retail for $2.99. Here's where to find the links: http://www.corpsjustice.com/novels.html
If you've read it and liked it, please leave a review on whichever platform you bought it from. Every review helps!
Book Ten Cometh... After a six-week detour to write the second Benjamin Dragon installment, I'm ready to get back in the saddle for the next Corps Justice novel. Drum roll please... I'm pretty excited about this one. I took your comments and rolled them into what will be another thrilling romp with the Corps Justice warriors. As a Corps Justice VIP, you get the first look at the new cover. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the cover for Papal Justice.
In case you were wondering what it's going to be about (oh, and don't forget that you can be part of the Novels Live team helping me write it), here's the draft book blurb: Kidnappings and brutal killings in Mexico... A border problem that the United States won't fix...
A pope and a president faced with a common enemy...
What if the Pope and the Roman Catholic Church had a secret order of warriors monks who could do their bidding? And what if said order was tasked, by the Pope himself, to find the terrorists who were not only focused on killing Catholic priests, but using them to gain entry into the United States?
The Holy See approaches U.S. President Brandon Zimmer with his dilemma, asking for assistance in the matter. Who else would Zimmer choose to aid the warrior monks other than former Marine, Cal Stokes, and his team at The Jefferson Group?
February 26, 2015
"Chain of Command" is Published!
I'm very happy to report that Chain of Command is now LIVE and ready for you to download. Just like last time, for a very limited time I'm offering the book to you, my Corps Justice VIPs, for only 99-cents (US$). Don't wait! Buy them for you, buy them for friends...
Here are the links to purchase now:
AMAZON U.S.
AMAZON UK
AMAZON CA
AMAZON IN
AMAZON AU (The links for Apple, B&N and Kobo are taking forever to go live. Check back > HERE < tonight. I should have the links by then) Chain of Command might be my favorite story so far. There's a lot of me in there as well as a mention of one of my family members, something I've never done before. I hope you like it. If you do, please leave a review as soon as you can :)
Big thanks to the incredible Novels Live team and the Corps Justice Beta Readers for helping me craft and polish this awesome ride. Your hard work is much appreciated. Book Number Ten It's that time again. I'm starting Book 10 in March after a quick detour to Benjamin Dragon land. Vote below and let me know which idea you like best, or give me your own.
Create your free online surveys with SurveyMonkey , the world's leading questionnaire tool. Last, if you care about my Benjamin Dragon series, vote on what name you think I should give "The Gifted" in this one-question survey HERE.
Here are the links to purchase now:AMAZON U.S.
AMAZON UK
AMAZON CA
AMAZON IN
AMAZON AU (The links for Apple, B&N and Kobo are taking forever to go live. Check back > HERE < tonight. I should have the links by then) Chain of Command might be my favorite story so far. There's a lot of me in there as well as a mention of one of my family members, something I've never done before. I hope you like it. If you do, please leave a review as soon as you can :)
Big thanks to the incredible Novels Live team and the Corps Justice Beta Readers for helping me craft and polish this awesome ride. Your hard work is much appreciated. Book Number Ten It's that time again. I'm starting Book 10 in March after a quick detour to Benjamin Dragon land. Vote below and let me know which idea you like best, or give me your own.
Create your free online surveys with SurveyMonkey , the world's leading questionnaire tool. Last, if you care about my Benjamin Dragon series, vote on what name you think I should give "The Gifted" in this one-question survey HERE.
January 16, 2015
"Disavowed" Discounted Again + Excerpt
Disavowed Thanks to everyone who picked up a copy of
Disavowed
last month. It's doing very well on Amazon. Due to holiday absences, some of you emailed to tell me that you missed the short window to buy the book at 99-cents. You're in luck! I set it to 99-cents again, but only for a short time. Feel free to buy some for friends too. Pick it up now before it reverts back to full price. The links are below...
BUY NOW FOR ONLY 99-CENTS
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/13KhCq3
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00R8GVRK6
Amazon CA: http://www.amazon.ca/dp/B00R8GVRK6
Amazon AU: http://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B00R8GVRK6
Amazon IN: http://www.amazon.in/dp/B00R8GVRK6
REVIEWS: If you have already read the book, and enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review on Amazon or whichever retailer you got it from. Every on helps!
Corps Justice Gear
In case you hadn't heard, you can now purchase Corps Justice t-shirts thanks to the innovative thinking of some of our readers. Check out the Corps Justice Swag Shop HERE and see what they came up with.
Chain of Command Update
Book 9 of the Corps Justice series in well underway. My deadline for completing the first draft is January 31st. I'm planning on a mid to late February launch. Here's a little unedited taste for you to sample this weekend:
(CAUTION: The following contains unedited material that may be unsuitable for the grammatically inclined) Chain of Command
Chapter 1
Disney Yacht Club Resort
Lake Buena Vista, Florida
10:37am, December 3rd
A refreshing breeze blew in across the small lake that separated the Disney Yacht Club Resort from Epcot and the Boardwalk retail strip. The low seventy-degree morning did little to dissuade the grandkids from building mountains and forts in the hotel’s sand filled swimming pool. The 3-acre water paradise was like a magnet drawing in every kid who clamored on their parent’s bedside whenever the sun came up.
He watched his four grandsons and one granddaughter as they switched from building to destruction. The youngest, Lily, boisterous with her blonde curls and swim diaper stuffed swimsuit, squealed as her brothers and cousins smashed and swept their creations away.
He smiled as they played, savoring each moment. There had been too many lost moments over the years. Some were inevitable, some self-imposed.
His hand reached over and touched his wife’s leg. She was engrossed in the latest Danielle Steel novel, seemingly not noticing the goings-on in the pool. But he knew better. She was a good mom, a terrific grandmother. She could hear a cry from across the house or detect danger as it was happening, a modern day supermom. Like so many military wives, she’d learned to adapt, to play the role of mother and father while her husband was away.
Without looking away from her book, she set her hand on top of his. It wasn’t as smooth as it used to be, or as soft as the first time he’d felt it, but he loved it just the same. If the past month had taught him anything it was that family was important, possibly most important.
It hadn’t been easy. His two sons had grown up on bases all over the world, following him as he climbed the ranks. He understood their bitterness. They’d never had a home, always traveling, always moving.
But things were better now. He’d made an effort to reconnect where in the past he probably would have buried himself in work. He wouldn’t take the credit though. It was his wife who’d finally given him the ultimatum.
She’d dealt with the missteps, the infidelity, the open-ended deployments, but she drew the line at her family.
“You’re about to lose them,” she’d said, that hard Southern edge he’d come to associate with her mother. “You either fix this or I leave.”
They’d railed back and forth. He told her that he was doing it all for her even though he knew just as the words left his mouth that it wasn’t true. He loved the uniform, the challenge. He thought that maybe after a day or two she would back down, see the error of her demands.
But she hadn’t and he was glad for it.
They’d been in Florida for almost a week. Breakfasts in bed or a lobster omelet at the Captain’s Grille. During the day they’d traversed the Magic Kingdom and worn out the rides as the grandkids begged for the next amusement. Lily loved the Peter Pan ride. Grant preferred Thunder Mountain. At night they ate at the Beaches and Cream Soda Shop, sharing the enormous Kitchen Sink sundae for dessert. They hadn’t come close to finishing the whopping sugar creation.
While the kids napped, he corralled his sons and spent the time getting to know them again. His oldest was a school teacher, soon to be principal. The second was back in school getting his law degree after a disappointing run as a financial planner. Neither had followed him into the service, and now he knew why.
For years he’d been bitter of that fact. They were both fit, gifted athletes, natural leaders. They would’ve done well. Instead they’d taken after their mother, gone the liberal route, often taunting him with their politics.
He didn’t care anymore. His wife was right. All that mattered was that they were together at last. One family.
The kids were changed and the adults were trying to herd them into the jogging strollers. Lily was the only one cooperating, a fact that made him smile. He bent down and hugged her, receiving a wet kiss on the nose in response.
“I love you, Grapa,” she said.
“I love you too, sweetie.”
He kissed her on the forehead.
“So we’ll meet you at the French cafe in an hour,” his wife said, stuffing snacks in her purse.
“I’ll see you there,” he replied.
“Are you sure you won’t come with us now?” she asked, her tone clearly indicating what she thought about his other commitment.
“It won’t be long, honey, I promise.”
It was a lie, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“Okay. Don’t forget to put on some sunscreen,” she said.
He nodded and then kissed her on the lips, moving in for a hug. He savored the smell of mint shampoo and the perfume he’d bought for her the day before. In that moment he realized how much he loved her, how much he needed her. He couldn’t let go.
“Um, honey, the kids are leaving,” she said.
“Right.”
He let her go and stepped back, smiling.
“Love you, honey.”
She smiled back and took off after her family.
He watched them go.
When they’d finally made it over the bridge leading into the international entrance of Epcot, he turned and headed back to the room.
He emerged five minutes later and left out the front entrance, nodding to the hotel’s greeter in his ship’s captain uniform. The prayer came to him as he walked, a snippet remembered from some long ago sermon.
Lord, forgive my thoughts, my actions and my words.
Before he knew it he was surrounded by prickly palmettos and towering pines. The busy roadways were far behind. He had no idea how long it had taken him to walk to where he now stopped.
There’d been a lot of hikes over the years. Back-breaking rucksacks and sweat filled boots. Sweat and blood. He and his his men, one foot in front of the other.
He thought of it now with with nostalgic reverence as he fell to his knees, the emotion threatening to overwhelm his resolve. Images of his wife, his sons, his grandkids floated in front of him. Then came his men who had died, given their lives for their country, for the brother standing next to him.
He took a deep breath and reached into his pocket. It was time.
The Assistant Commandant of the Marine Corps put the barrel of the Colt 1911 in his mouth, and pulled the trigger.
To be continued...
BUY NOW FOR ONLY 99-CENTS
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/13KhCq3
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00R8GVRK6
Amazon CA: http://www.amazon.ca/dp/B00R8GVRK6
Amazon AU: http://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B00R8GVRK6
Amazon IN: http://www.amazon.in/dp/B00R8GVRK6
REVIEWS: If you have already read the book, and enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review on Amazon or whichever retailer you got it from. Every on helps!
Corps Justice GearIn case you hadn't heard, you can now purchase Corps Justice t-shirts thanks to the innovative thinking of some of our readers. Check out the Corps Justice Swag Shop HERE and see what they came up with.
Chain of Command Update
Book 9 of the Corps Justice series in well underway. My deadline for completing the first draft is January 31st. I'm planning on a mid to late February launch. Here's a little unedited taste for you to sample this weekend:
(CAUTION: The following contains unedited material that may be unsuitable for the grammatically inclined) Chain of CommandChapter 1
Disney Yacht Club Resort
Lake Buena Vista, Florida
10:37am, December 3rd
A refreshing breeze blew in across the small lake that separated the Disney Yacht Club Resort from Epcot and the Boardwalk retail strip. The low seventy-degree morning did little to dissuade the grandkids from building mountains and forts in the hotel’s sand filled swimming pool. The 3-acre water paradise was like a magnet drawing in every kid who clamored on their parent’s bedside whenever the sun came up.
He watched his four grandsons and one granddaughter as they switched from building to destruction. The youngest, Lily, boisterous with her blonde curls and swim diaper stuffed swimsuit, squealed as her brothers and cousins smashed and swept their creations away.
He smiled as they played, savoring each moment. There had been too many lost moments over the years. Some were inevitable, some self-imposed.
His hand reached over and touched his wife’s leg. She was engrossed in the latest Danielle Steel novel, seemingly not noticing the goings-on in the pool. But he knew better. She was a good mom, a terrific grandmother. She could hear a cry from across the house or detect danger as it was happening, a modern day supermom. Like so many military wives, she’d learned to adapt, to play the role of mother and father while her husband was away.
Without looking away from her book, she set her hand on top of his. It wasn’t as smooth as it used to be, or as soft as the first time he’d felt it, but he loved it just the same. If the past month had taught him anything it was that family was important, possibly most important.
It hadn’t been easy. His two sons had grown up on bases all over the world, following him as he climbed the ranks. He understood their bitterness. They’d never had a home, always traveling, always moving.
But things were better now. He’d made an effort to reconnect where in the past he probably would have buried himself in work. He wouldn’t take the credit though. It was his wife who’d finally given him the ultimatum.
She’d dealt with the missteps, the infidelity, the open-ended deployments, but she drew the line at her family.
“You’re about to lose them,” she’d said, that hard Southern edge he’d come to associate with her mother. “You either fix this or I leave.”
They’d railed back and forth. He told her that he was doing it all for her even though he knew just as the words left his mouth that it wasn’t true. He loved the uniform, the challenge. He thought that maybe after a day or two she would back down, see the error of her demands.
But she hadn’t and he was glad for it.
They’d been in Florida for almost a week. Breakfasts in bed or a lobster omelet at the Captain’s Grille. During the day they’d traversed the Magic Kingdom and worn out the rides as the grandkids begged for the next amusement. Lily loved the Peter Pan ride. Grant preferred Thunder Mountain. At night they ate at the Beaches and Cream Soda Shop, sharing the enormous Kitchen Sink sundae for dessert. They hadn’t come close to finishing the whopping sugar creation.
While the kids napped, he corralled his sons and spent the time getting to know them again. His oldest was a school teacher, soon to be principal. The second was back in school getting his law degree after a disappointing run as a financial planner. Neither had followed him into the service, and now he knew why.
For years he’d been bitter of that fact. They were both fit, gifted athletes, natural leaders. They would’ve done well. Instead they’d taken after their mother, gone the liberal route, often taunting him with their politics.
He didn’t care anymore. His wife was right. All that mattered was that they were together at last. One family.
The kids were changed and the adults were trying to herd them into the jogging strollers. Lily was the only one cooperating, a fact that made him smile. He bent down and hugged her, receiving a wet kiss on the nose in response.
“I love you, Grapa,” she said.
“I love you too, sweetie.”
He kissed her on the forehead.
“So we’ll meet you at the French cafe in an hour,” his wife said, stuffing snacks in her purse.
“I’ll see you there,” he replied.
“Are you sure you won’t come with us now?” she asked, her tone clearly indicating what she thought about his other commitment.
“It won’t be long, honey, I promise.”
It was a lie, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“Okay. Don’t forget to put on some sunscreen,” she said.
He nodded and then kissed her on the lips, moving in for a hug. He savored the smell of mint shampoo and the perfume he’d bought for her the day before. In that moment he realized how much he loved her, how much he needed her. He couldn’t let go.
“Um, honey, the kids are leaving,” she said.
“Right.”
He let her go and stepped back, smiling.
“Love you, honey.”
She smiled back and took off after her family.
He watched them go.
When they’d finally made it over the bridge leading into the international entrance of Epcot, he turned and headed back to the room.
He emerged five minutes later and left out the front entrance, nodding to the hotel’s greeter in his ship’s captain uniform. The prayer came to him as he walked, a snippet remembered from some long ago sermon.
Lord, forgive my thoughts, my actions and my words.
Before he knew it he was surrounded by prickly palmettos and towering pines. The busy roadways were far behind. He had no idea how long it had taken him to walk to where he now stopped.
There’d been a lot of hikes over the years. Back-breaking rucksacks and sweat filled boots. Sweat and blood. He and his his men, one foot in front of the other.
He thought of it now with with nostalgic reverence as he fell to his knees, the emotion threatening to overwhelm his resolve. Images of his wife, his sons, his grandkids floated in front of him. Then came his men who had died, given their lives for their country, for the brother standing next to him.
He took a deep breath and reached into his pocket. It was time.
The Assistant Commandant of the Marine Corps put the barrel of the Colt 1911 in his mouth, and pulled the trigger.
To be continued...
December 19, 2014
Book 8 Is Now Available!
For those of you rushing off for the holidays, I'll make this quick. Disavowed is now live on Amazon and available for purchase. Based on your feedback, and to keep things simple, Disavowed is priced at only 99-cents, but only for the next couple of days. That's my big thanks to you for a great year and a toast to 2015. Here are the links:BUY NOW FOR ONLY 99-CENTS
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/13KhCq3
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00R8GVRK6
Amazon CA: http://www.amazon.ca/dp/B00R8GVRK6
Amazon AU: http://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B00R8GVRK6
Amazon IN: http://www.amazon.in/dp/B00R8GVRK6
Let's see if we can get this one into the Top 100 before Christmas.
Please leave an honest review on Amazon as soon as you can. Every one helps!
THE NOVELS LIVE TEAM & BETA READERS: A huge thanks to the Novels Live team and our Beta Readers who helped craft Disavowed. You guys are awesome.
CHAIN OF COMMAND: The 9th book in the Corps Justice series, Chain of Command, is currently being written with the help of the Novels Live team. It's gonna be a good one, and the idea of anyone trying to disband the Marine Corps has already stirred up lots of lively debate. Stay tuned for a February 2015 release.
ONWARD TO 2015: As I mentioned in my last update, I've got eight new novels planned for 2015. Fun times ahead, so strap on your boondockers and hang on for the ride.MERRY CHRISTMAS: As things wind down for 2014, I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas and all the best for a very Happy New Year. Be safe, and enjoy.
October 27, 2014
Big Thanks To You and A Sneak Peek...
First, a big huge giant thanks to everyone who bought a copy of
Moral Imperative
. Your support never ceases to humble me. It keeps me clacking away on the keyboard.
If you still need to pick up a copy or if you need to leave a review here's the link: http://amzn.to/1qb8Uo2
Graphic Novel Update I'm really excited about the progress for the graphic novel version of Back to War. Smith and Satterfield are amazingly talented artists. Check out a couple pages from the opening scenes. Give the dynamic duo a pat on the back in the COMMENTS section:
Disavowed I'm picking up speed on Book 8, Disavowed, with the help of the Novels Live team. I'm shooting to have the first draft done by the middle of November and the whole novel published early to mid December. As I mentioned last time, I've got 8 new novels planned for 2015. Stay tuned for more...
Your Input
I'd love to know what YOU think I should write about in 2015. After Disavowed I'm writing Chain of Command. It'll be about an as yet undetermined conspiracy inside the Marine Corps. Cal and his fellow Marine putting their uniforms back on at the request of the new Commandant.
Let me know what books/ideas you'd like to see me tackle after that. Leave your thoughts in the COMMENTS section of this post.
If you still need to pick up a copy or if you need to leave a review here's the link: http://amzn.to/1qb8Uo2
Graphic Novel Update I'm really excited about the progress for the graphic novel version of Back to War. Smith and Satterfield are amazingly talented artists. Check out a couple pages from the opening scenes. Give the dynamic duo a pat on the back in the COMMENTS section: Disavowed I'm picking up speed on Book 8, Disavowed, with the help of the Novels Live team. I'm shooting to have the first draft done by the middle of November and the whole novel published early to mid December. As I mentioned last time, I've got 8 new novels planned for 2015. Stay tuned for more... Your InputI'd love to know what YOU think I should write about in 2015. After Disavowed I'm writing Chain of Command. It'll be about an as yet undetermined conspiracy inside the Marine Corps. Cal and his fellow Marine putting their uniforms back on at the request of the new Commandant.
Let me know what books/ideas you'd like to see me tackle after that. Leave your thoughts in the COMMENTS section of this post.
