New Releases

I have a couple of announcements.  First of all,The Quest for Yoshi, the long-awaited fourth novel in the ADVENTURE CHRONICLES series, is finally available.

“For two months, Shawna’s nightmares have kept her confused and exhausted. Visions of empty graves, cursed amulets, and old friends fill her thoughts at all times, leaving her friends and boyfriend perplexed.

“Jamie, still mourning the loss of his clan-sister, has struggled to come to terms with having left leadership of the Funakoshi clan in the hands of the violent Shakato family.

“So now Shawna’s strange visions are drawing her back to the world of Thera. The last time that they went there, a cursed wizard killed Yoshi. What will happen this time?”

Available in PAPERBACK, as well as KINDLE and NOOK formats and don’t forget SMASHWORDS.

But the most important thing is the announcement of the release of Malicious Mysteries, the dedication to my late mother:

“When Patricia Davis suddenly left this world on August 22, 2015, her death devastated a family who loved her more than the world. On top of everything, she had no life insurance, leaving her three sons to raise the money to pay the very understanding owners of the funeral home who hosted her funeral. When her youngest son, who is an author, discussed the issue with some of his colleagues, they decided to put together an anthology of short stories. And, since Patricia loved crime stories, they selected that as the theme.

“The stories feature Metahumans, CSI agents, and even a story based loosely on historical figures. With stories by Jim Robb, JL MacDonald, Brian K. Morris, Stephanie Welch, Jeffrey Allen Davis, TW Johnson, and Samuel E. Campbell, there’s something in here for everyone.

“All proceeds of each sale go to the Funeral Fund of Patricia Ann Davis.”

The book is currently available only in electronic formats at AMAZON and SMASHWORDS.

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Cover Reveal for Book Four

Finally, the time is nearly upon us!  The editing phase is complete and The Quest for Yoshi is nearly ready for publication.  I am planning for a release date of January 29.  On top of that, the anthology dedicated to my mother should be available on what would have been her seventieth birthday, February 1.

And now, the cover of The Quest for Yoshi:


The cover art was drawn by the talented Nathan Bonner with a cover layout and color by the amazing T.W. Johnson. Also, Book Five is already in the editing phase and should be ready by the summer’s end.  Until next time, God Bless!

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The Final, Edited Prologue for Book Four

Here’s the final edit for the prologue of The Quest for Yoshi.  You will see a major change:


A Night Two Months Prior

Wednesday, October 21, 1992

The girl walks over the ground, her insubstantial form not disturbing the mist that has settled above the grass.  The gentle breeze blows through her hair, bringing the sound of familiar voices ahead.  Her walk becomes a run as she moves toward the rising smoke of a chimney.

Shawna enters a clearing, recognizing a small cottage and a smaller building.  Smoke comes from the chimney of the house.  The young prophetess looks quickly around the yard and sees freshly dug earth in front of a tombstone some thirty feet away.  Her feet leave the ground and she floats toward the house, coming to a stop in front of a window.  Peering inside, she finds an unmoving figure, covered with a white sheet.

The sound of weeping catches her attention.  She moves through the wall and enters the house.  She floats toward a room beyond the living area.  As she moves by the fireplace, she catches a glimpse of a metal box sitting atop the mantle.  The padlock on the box is nearly as large as the box, itself.  Whatever is inside of the box was forged from a force so dark, that most pious men would fear it.  The one who crafted this box understood the need to keep it away from the world.

Shawna floats through the doorway and into the bedroom of the owners of this home.  The two who are in here are familiar.  One is a woman, the other a man.  The woman has flowing blonde hair and delicate features.  Her eyes are slightly slanted, giving her the appearance of someone with some Asian ancestry.  Her ears end in a startling point and her blue robes are dark and beautiful.  She crouches over their marriage bed, calling out to her God, “I don’t understand!  If she’s not with You and she’s not in Hell, then what, my Lord?”

The man, easily a full foot and a half taller than the woman, kneels next to her, placing a gentle arm around her to comfort her.  He has a muscular frame, but his gut is somewhat rotund, giving him a jolly appearance.  His red-bearded face, however, shows no trace of jolliness.  Dirt covers him from head to toe, but the woman does not seem to care as she takes comfort in his embrace.

A sense of heat comes from back out in the other room.  Shawna knows that the two in this room cannot feel it, but she does.  She turns and floats quickly into the living area.  A glance at the metal box finds that a hole has been melted in the front of it.  Her gaze follows a burning mark from the base of the fireplace to the sheeted form as an unholy glow settles in, of its own accord, around the neck of the unmoving figure.

The seconds tick by and the fear in the air is palpable.  Shawna’s breathing speeds up.  Her heart begins to pound in her chest.  In the distance, a wolf howls.

Suddenly, the figure sits up, the sheet still covering it from head to toe.  There is a gasp for breath.  After the lungs are filled, they release a blood-curdling scream that . . .


*  *  *


. . . she could still hear as she sat straight up in the bed.  Shawna leaped to her feet, steadying herself with a trembling hand against the wall of her bedroom, just next to the light switch.  She had lost track of the number of times that she had experienced this same dream since that first night back in October.

She walked nervously from her room and stepped into the bathroom, turning on the light with a flick of the switch.  Looking in the mirror, the young woman examined the face staring back at her.  Bags had begun to form under her eyes, complaining to her of their lack of sleep.  Beads of perspiration ran down her face.  Her hair, which she had just recently dyed back to its natural brown color, was matted to her head with dampness, even though it was now December.

Shawna turned on the cold water, then splashed some of it on her face.  As soon as she instinctively closed her eyes to keep the water out of them, she could see that sheeted figure again, screaming with a pain that no human being was ever meant to feel.

Shawna turned off the water, then headed back into her bedroom.  She looked at her alarm clock, which gave the time as 4:56 AM.  The adolescent decided that she needed to go back to sleep.  She switched off the light and climbed under her covers.  She closed her eyes.

And saw the figure screaming.

She shot into a sitting position, reaching instinctively out to her bed table, closing her hand over the cool, leather cover of her Bible.  Hugging it close to her, she whispered, tears building in her eyes, “Why, Lord?  Why?”  Then she wept bitterly.

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I know it’s been a while since I last posted.  I’ve been busy on the publishing front.  Aside from Book Four (I am literally just waiting for the layout of the cover and it’s ready to go to press), I’ve been setting up a special anthology.

As many of you know, my mother passed away in August of this year.  What you also may know is that she didn’t have life insurance.  I have set up a GoFundMe page to help.  I remembered that my mother liked mystery television shows and true crime shows and had the idea to put together an anthology to raise money for it, as well.  I mentioned it to some of my author friends from across the country and even in Canada and they delivered.  The book will have murder mysteries as a theme and will be available in ebook form before the end of December.  Here’s the cover, set up by my dear friend, TW Johnson, and featuring artwork by my cousin, Andrew Allen:


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Presenting the fourth preview of Book Four of THE ADVENTURE CHRONICLES.

Please remember that this is unedited.

The woman’s eyes shot open, her white irises beginning to regain their deep, blue hue.  Her right hand lashed out, knocking the divining bones from the table next to her.  She climbed from the wooden chair, then turned and grabbed it, throwing it with a wail of anger across the room.  The wood shattered as it hit the stone wall.

The door to her laboratory opened and two guards in black chain mail armor rushed in.  “Is everything alright, m’lady?” asked one of them.

The woman composed herself, gently brushing her shoulder-length, dark-red hair from her face.  “I be fine.  Leave me at once.”

The two guards bowed, then left the room.  As the door closed, the woman turned back toward her divining table.  Her rage had missed her spying crystal.  She bent over it and peered inside, praising her dark god as she realized that this was more of an opportunity than she had initially realized.  She was not concerned by the fact that the prophetess’s God had blocked her view of them.

“So, Mother World prophetess of the Christian God,” she whispered.  “Ye have returned to Thera with thy friends.”  She smiled, her perfect face made demonic by the act.  “The death of Tarent will now be avenged.”

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Presenting the third preview of Book Four of the ADVENTURE CHRONICLES

Please remember that it is unedited.

An ear-piercing scream shattered the night, almost causing Shawna to drop the bottle.

That sounds familiar,” grunted Max.

The group charged out of the grove, in the direction of the scream.  They came out on the dirt road that Elvara had used to lead them to her father’s cottage.  About a hundred yards up the road, in the direction of Elvara’s village of Freestone, the teens saw a covered wagon with two horses attached to it.  A woman who was sitting in the front of the wagon had apparently made the noise.

Around the wagon stood ten men, each wearing leather armor and brandishing short swords.  An older man lay on the ground, clutching his chest.

“You shouldn’t be travelling at night, m’lady,” one of the armored men was saying sarcastically.  “These are dark times and it isn’t safe.”

“Please,” begged the woman, “we don’t have anything of value.  We’re not merchants.  We were just trying to get home before the Witching Hour.”

“Maybe you should’ve camped for the evening,” suggested another of the bandits.  “Off the main road.”

Another of the men glanced up the road and saw Jamie and the others standing there, watching them.  “More travelers, Gril.”

The first man that they had seen speaking looked up at them.  “Maybe you all have some money for tolls?”

Jamie’s brow furrowed in disgust.  “Maybe you’d like to come and take it?”

The men looked around at one another and a few of them chuckled.

“Brave words, lad,” said the one who had spoken to them.  “Can you back them up?”  Then, the men started to walk toward the group of teens.

Jamie looked back at Shawna.  “Why don’t you see if you can help the man who’s hurt, while we deal with these guys?”

She nodded, then slipped back into the trees to make her way toward the wagon without the other men stopping her.

Jamie pulled his ninja-to from its sheath and assumed a defensive stance.  Around him, his friends all prepared themselves, as well.  On one side, Buster stood with one pair of nunchaku in each hand.  On the other, Dave popped his knuckles expectantly, a grin plastered on his face.

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Christian Fiction Review of INVASION OF THE NINJA

Christian Fiction Review Guru’s Peter Younghusband has posted an awesome review of the first novel in the Adventure Chronicles Series.  Check it out here.

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