Detour Paris: Detour Paris Series: Complete

by Jack Dancer

Tucker Blue, an advertising executive and newly-minted mid-life bachelor is about to fly off on a European holiday to Barcelona with his flight attendant girlfriend when an unexpected love-at-first-sight encounter with the beguiling Monica Reyes lures him into a romantic rendezvous of every man's fantasy. The flight, conveniently missed, and a detour to Paris find the couple burning up the rails training through France toward Barcelona. And just as Tucker is about the reach the Promised Land with Monica, a dead man bearing a gift of unimaginable wealth arrives unannounced, and the two lovers are unwittingly thrown into a world of untold danger. Friends abruptly vanish; new ones appear and still others are unmasked as frauds and everything's getting dicey. Dead men might tell no tales, but their associates do, and when Tucker begins investigating, truths about his powerful but anonymous adversary begin to unravel, enabling him a narrow chance to triumph over all odds. When he's dealt a second devastating blow from yet another anonymous opponent, Tucker Blue, from all appearances, is out for the count. Not only has he lost the love of his life in the most horrific manner, but he also discovers he's been the target of an elaborate con game. All the money in the world cannot save him now, and Monica's life hangs in the balance. When you take away all that a man has, leaving him with nothing more to lose, what remains is the most dangerous animal in the jungle, and right now that's Tucker Blue, and he's pissed. Love and money got him into this mess, and it's love and money that'll get him out, but he must be willing to sacrifice either or both to rescue his princess and destroy his enemies, not just destroy them - annihilate them. He needs an army. So he recruits one, beginning with a single platoon of thirty, thumb-size Japanese Giant Hornets spraying flesh-melting poison. It's a start. The rest is a campaign that only a crazed advertising man like Tucker Blue could dream up, someone with nothing to lose other than the cojones to pull it off. Step into the world of romance from a man's perspective and see what love is really all about. (Inspired by an actual dating experience, Detour Paris is for mature audiences.)

814 pages, Paperback

Published February 8, 2016

About the author

Jack Dancer isn't your average Joe – he's more like a human pinball, bouncing from one insane situation to another with all the grace of a drunk elephant.

Born with a silver-plated spoon in his mouth (which he promptly hocked for beer money), Jack's been everywhere from the gutter to the penthouse, sometimes within the same week.

By 11, Jack figured out Santa was just Dad with a better PR team. By 13, he discovered girls were not, in fact, icky. By 14, he decided God was just another adult-approved fabrication for the gullible and about as real as his chances of becoming a professional yodeler.

At sixteen, high on hormones and low on common sense, Jack decided the South was too small for his dreams. So, he rounded up a teenage dream team - his best friend and two willing jail baits - and made a beeline for the Big Apple. But instead of fame and fortune, they found themselves living in a basement with a wino and a dwarf until Daddy dearest drug his ass back home.

Lesson learned? Nah, just the first chapter in Jack's "How to Piss Off Authority" guidebook.

At eighteen, he landed a gig at an infamous Florida school for sociopaths, which miraculously earned him a "get out of Vietnam" pass. He then hitched to Boston with a new wife and a cat, embracing the counterculture and anti-war vibes of the time—while working as a welder for a major defense contractor.

Yep, life is one big contradiction.

Jack's resume reads like a drunk's dartboard of career choices. Ice cream man? Check. Boardwalk barker? You bet. Welder, drywall guy, snake oil salesman – sorry, "advertising executive." He's done it all, usually just long enough to get fired or bored, whichever came first.

Jack’s early education came courtesy of his father’s hand and belt, followed by a post-grad crash course on street smarts and hard knocks, baby. Oh, and some fancy degrees he probably bought off a guy in an alley.
It all landed him back in New York, slinging bullshit on Madison Avenue. Life's a circle, and Jack's riding it like a drunk on a merry-go-round.

Money? Jack's bank account has had more ups and downs than a menopausal rollercoaster. He's been so broke he couldn't pay attention and rich enough to blow through millions. The only constant? His talent for spending it all

Marriage? Jack's been to the altar more times than a narcoleptic priest. Four wives, countless "almosts," and one 28-year marathon that probably qualifies him for sainthood; one "oops, how did that happen?" moment, and a current "till death do us part" gig with a California girl named Penny because the fourth time's the jackpot, right?

Finally, Jack’s writing the chapter titled "Happily Ever After... No, Really This Time."

Fatherhood taught Jack that having kids is like getting a tattoo on your face—seemed like a good idea at the time, but now you're stuck explaining it for the rest of your life.

Jack's life philosophy is as subtle as a sledgehammer to the nuts. God? Santa? Tooth Fairy? All bullshit. The real force running the show? Testosterone – nature's very own weapon of mass destruction. It's why we have skyscrapers, monster trucks, and an inexplicable number of "Fast and Furious" movies. It might even be God himself.

In the end, Jack Dancer is just riding this cosmic rollercoaster called life; middle fingers raised high.

In Jack’s book, life is simple: it’s the stretch between birth and death, and there’s no sequel. Be grateful for the ride. You’ve already won the cosmic lottery just by existing, so go out a winner—only losers cry for more.

p.s. Jack’s considering a pen name - something Smith or Jones.