My third novel, “Broken,” is scheduled for release by Bar Publishing next Wednesday, April 2nd. The following is an excerpt from the book:











Ross Mitchell sat on the edge of his bunk and struggled to control the adrenaline that surged through his body like a high voltage electric current. He forced his feet to stop tapping and jammed his hands into the pockets of his pants to quiet the staccato rhythm they were playing on the cold iron bed frame.

He checked his watch and saw that he still had another thirty minutes. It had been a long twelve months. You don’t make friends in prison, even a minimum security facility, when you’re doing time for inappropriate behavior with a five year old girl. How was he supposed to know she was only five? The way she dressed, the way she looked at him was not the look or dress of a five year old. With a little makeup the girl could have passed for seven or eight.

Mitchell had explained all this in court. The judge and his court-appointed attorney had simply stared at him in disbelief. Ross supposed he should be thankful he was caught before matters had progressed to the point where the judge would have been justified in throwing him in jail for the rest of his life. He had spent the past twelve months talking to various prison psychiatrists and therapists, answering their questions, discussing his “problem,” pretending to be cured. What a crock.

A guard suddenly appeared in front of his cell door.

“Check-out time, Mitchell. Let’s go.”

He spent the next hour being processed out of the system and back into society where he had an appointment with his parole officer and a janitorial job waiting for him.

The sun glared down from a cloudless sky and found the back of Mitchell’s neck as he stepped outside and inhaled the scent of freedom. A blast of frigid March wind greeted his arrival. Nascent buds were on the trees but there were still patches of snow and ice on the ground. Spring had yet to come to this part of the world.

Mitchell pulled out his phone and punched in a number.

“I’m out. Have you got the new set of documents ready for me?”

A beatific smile spread across Mitchell’s face as he listened to the response to his question.

“I’m leaving now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Now that he was free the urge to satisfy the dark need that was blooming in his body like a malignant flower was overpowering. He was ready to hunt.