Glow Trap. The Final Trap. I currently have four crime series out in the world. Two contemporary Maine, one historical, and one thriller series. I have another series set to debut in October of 2026. And there is a sixth series being shopped around. That is a serious amount of series. Sorry. But on August 13th, something new happened. While sequels have been piled on one after another in my mystery novels, for the first time, I have ended the sequence. Glow Trap, published eight days ago, is the Final Trap. In an interview once, I was asked how I knew it was time to end a series. My answer at the time was that I have no idea, I have never done that. My reasoning now is that Clay Wolfe as we know him just plain seemed to have run his course. It was time to say goodbye to Port Essex, Baylee, Crystal, Westy, Murphy, and Cloutier. Glow Trap ties together and unravels quite a few threads all at the same time. A documentary film crew wants to make a movie based on Baker & Wolfe Private Investigators. A man with an alias washes up on shore dead. A trio of suspects included a retired spy, a former gangbanger in the WITSEC program, and a wealthy art thief hiding out in Port Essex. In a blast from the past, the idea is floated that the death of Clay’s father, mother, and grandmother when he was just a child was not just an accident. That a man who Mack Wolfe had put away for dealing drugs had reached out from prison and snuffed their lives in revenge. The pharmaceutical billionaire that Clay built a case against in Wolfe Trap has the charges dismissed due to technicalities that most likely involve bribes and blackmail. Is he ready to let bygones be bygones or is he set on a path of retribution? Goodbyes are always difficult. But it is time to say goodbye to Port Essex. The fireworks are so explosive, the action so packed, and the suspense so tight—it only seemed right to cap the climax and call it complete. Glow Trap. The Final Trap. Or is it?

The Not So Merry Adventures of Max Creed They tell us, sir, to not chase trends in the writing business. But often something pops my writing impulses from the headlines, and I engage. I dig in. I explore and research and learn. And then the words appear on the screen, the printer spits them out, and we have the makings of a book. Two years ago, I wrote The Not So Merry Adventures of Max Creed about a billionaire playboy who has political aspirations, perhaps inclined in that direction from powerful forces beyond his knowledge. It publishes in April and is the beginning of a new series with a new publisher. Max Creed is a fictional person created to bring justice to those wronged by the ultra-wealthy in a world where the law overwhelmingly favors those with money and power. He is bound only by the laws of humanity and not those of the legal system. When Sevyn Knight hires Max Creed and his disciples to right the wrongs done to her father at the hands of billionaire playboy, Rupert Hastings, the game is afoot. Creed must enmesh himself into the world of the immoral tycoon in order to destroy him, but the temptations of sin and the allure of the pleasures of the rich and famous tease the very fabric of his being. Aided by his business manager, John Little, the former assassin, Scarlett, the tech wizard Scads, the attorney, Marian, and the financial guru, Tucker, Creed races against time to stop Hastings from becoming all powerful as murky figures appear on the darkest edges of his fiefdom. A breathless thrill ride that will keep your heart pounding long after the last page is turned. The fact of the matter is that it takes time from typing the first sentence of a new book to publication date. I write diligently and will finish the first draft of a book in four months, but then take a couple of months to edit. I recently submitted a new book, 1955, the start of another series, to Level Best Books. It took five months to get accepted, even though I am an established author with them now. I have been told it might sneak into publication at the end of 2026, or maybe 2027. The timeline on this is four months to write, two months to edit, five months to get accepted, and twenty-four months to publication. All in all, from the beginning of the book to its publication date is three years (give or take a month). This series has less complications due to the length of time because it is a historical fiction PI mystery set in 1955. There are not many changes to the events of seventy years ago, unlike writing contemporary thrillers. In The Not So Merry Adventures of Max Creed, Max Creed and his band of not so merry people will fight a crusade to fight evil and worse from seizing power in a world determined by the super wealthy. The beauty of Max is that he is not forced to play by any set of rules. He will give the justice system their chance to set things right, but if they prove incapable, he will take matters into his own hands. Sometimes, breaking the law is the only way to achieve justice. Do you agree?

In my Clay Wolfe book, Mouse Trap , I traveled down the rabbit hole into the world of genome editing, which some consider Wonderland. On the one hand, it is a place of wildly creative science trying to banish disease and disorder. On the other hand, it is a process that could lead to the demolition of human uniqueness, or what Wonderland represents, a world of absurdity, irrationality, uncertainty and disorder. Genome editing is a process in which the DNA of individuals can be changed at the embryo stage to edit traits such as height, eye color, and just about anything you can imagine using a technology called CRISPR-Cas9. The FDA frowns upon this being used on human subjects, but as often is the case, the science has outpaced the laws on putting any real teeth in restrictions on this being done. It could be used to make super soldiers. It could be used to change skin pigmentation. Do you want your child to have DNA traits common among geniuses, athletes, musicians, or artists? Mouse Trap posits that there are labs out there helping, for a very healthy fee, you to accomplish these aspirations for those goals for your unborn child. At the time of researching that book, it led me to the eugenics movement of the early 20th century. The primary place of research in the U.S. was at Cold Spring Harbor on Long Island, New York. It started in 1904 as a record gathering facility under Charles Davenport, a zoologist, and would quickly expand to a large part of the Carnegie Institute trying to declare certain individuals as unfit due to mental health, gender, race and other things that would lead to the involuntary sterilization of at least 60,000 people in this country. This movement funded by the wealthiest Americans, backed by a majority of politicians, spearheaded by the lead scientists and medical innovators, was the foundation of Adolph Hitler and the Nazi party. Of course, when the horrible atrocities of the Nazi’s and Hitler were revealed to the world, people began to distance themselves from the Eugenics Movement and it went dormant for years, but is now reappearing full-cycle in the form of genome editing. The research I did on Mouse Trap led me to the information that is the basis for my upcoming Brooklyn 8 Ballo book, City Gone Askew . 8 is confronted by the possibility, in 1924, of a horrifying triumvirate of the Eugenics Movement, the resurgence of the KKK, and the emergence of the Nazi party. Coming to you July 31st.

Dixey Bull is generally considered the first pirate in Maine. As these things so often go, even if he dreamed of being a pirate when he was a kid, living the life of a buccaneer of the seas was not his first intention. But, given his moniker, perhaps becoming a corsair was merely his manifest destiny. In the early 17th century, Bull started life off as an honest merchant, but when a roving band of French men attacked him along the coast of Maine, moored in Penobscot Bay, and relieved him of trade items of knives and beads as well as the furs he was bartering them for, something clicked in his brain. The raiders left him his small sailing vessel, but nothing else. Destitute and desperate he visited several English settlements and recruited fifteen men to be in his band of pirates. They started out ransacking small vessels, expanded their treachery to settlements along the coast, and then The Dread Dixey Bull and crew disappeared into thin air, never to be heard from again. Almost one hundred years later we come across Black Sam Bellamy. Much like Bull, Bellamy started off as a sailor, but he was with the British Royal Navy. Stationed in Cape Cod, he’d fall in love with a young lass named Goody Hallett. It is not quite known whether she was already married, and her husband disapproved (funny that), or she was too young, and her parents rejected Bellamy, but either way, he felt it necessary to go find his fortune so that he could return and take Goody away. He initially went looking for the treasure of the Lost Spanish Armada of 1715, but when that didn’t work out, he turned to piracy. In a little over a year, he became the wealthiest pirate ever, capturing the loot for up to fifty-three different ships. And this is where it becomes interesting. Loaded down with loot, he came to Maine. He stopped in Pemaquid Point before continuing to Machiasport with the thought of creating a Pirate Utopia, a democratic community of buccaneers enjoying the splendors of their booty. He had one task left to do first, though, and that was to retrieve his love, Goody Hallett, from Cape Cod. Unfortunately, his ship was caught in a fierce storm and sunk, and he and all but two of his men went down with the ship. And this is where my latest Clay Wolfe adventure begins. One of those survivors carries with him a treasure map that suggests that the stolen riches of Black Sam Bellamy were actually buried/hidden in the area now known as Port Essex. This map is uncovered in a King James Bible by two antique dealers who hire Clay and Baylee to help them find the treasure. Of course, it is not that simple. Pirates, Motorcycle Clubs, and Sex Doll Manufacturers round out the mix of those hunting the treasure. Pirate Trap publishes March 27th. Dead men tell no tales. Or do they?

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.” ― Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities Charles Dickens is writing about the French Revolution, but he might as well have been writing about the Industrial Revolution that was his time period, or maybe even the world of today, if he was an oracle in line with George Orwell. All three of these eras are ages of paradox. The rich live safe and leisurely existences far removed from the realities of most of the population. The French Revolution, Industrial Age, and Now are times of extreme wealth and of extreme poverty, a polarization of the whole truth, with a middle class plunked down on the lower side of the stratosphere. And this best of times and worst of times is also representative of the paradox of the holidays. Whether you celebrate Bodhi, Our Lady of Guadalupe, Hannukah, Yule, Christmas, Kwanzaa, or something else, it can be a wildly chaotic time. For those with money, family, friends, and love—it can be a wonderful celebration of life. For those struggling to pay the bills, it can be an enormous financial weight similar to cement shoes in a river. Many people feel alone and isolated as the world revels around them. The holidays are a time where it is stressed that is important to ask for help when help is needed. Whether it be money, sadness, remorse—it is essential to realize that you are not alone. And this means that those on the other side of the paradox, those with the means and the relationships of love, are ready to extend a hand. The holidays should not be the worst of times for anybody, not with so many of us living the best of times. None of us should live alone on a mountain top, nor need the visit of three spirits to wake us to the true meaning of the holidays. Nobody should feel the isolation of the Grinch nor the miserliness of a Scrooge. Let us make this the best of times and the season of light. We are all one people. Happy Holidays. Write on.

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When is Enough Enough? When is enough enough? That is a question we struggle with on a daily basis in America. We are born into a culture that always wants more. I am a product of this exposures and experience of my edifying enrichment. It is the American way to always want more. The Algonquin people told tales of the wendigo, a malevolent spirt that appeared as a man that had feelings of insatiable greed and hunger, and in their telling, had a desire cannibalize other humans. The more flesh the wendigo ate, the hungrier it grew, wanting more, more, and still more. This has come to be symbolic of any person, group, or movement with an overwhelming appetite and greed for ever greater consumption of food, power, wealth, or material possessions. This is the America that we live in, a place where enough is never enough. We need bigger houses, fancier cars, more clothes, appliances—the latest in technology and gadgets. More. This voracious hunger that can never be fulfilled is something that I often see and most certainly have experienced as a writer. There is always a desire for more, a reaching past what is had, to spy upon what could be next. As writers, we need to sometimes hit the pause button, and stop to smell the proverbial roses. I’ve always wanted to be a writer, or have since the age of eight, anyway. There were many bumps along the way. I wrote my first manuscript when I was twenty-two years old, fresh out of college. I am Cuba. A mere thirty-one years later, that book was published, creating my first traditionally published novel. I might interject that this was a rather patient time for me, and many roses were smelled, perhaps too many. But it was not for a lack of wanting. And when that first book came to fruition, my hunger grew ravenous. I signed a contract with Encircle Publications. Then came the cover reveal. Then the ARC. Then it was launch day. Book signings. I had written, published, and was selling copies of my own book. But I wanted more. Here, I will discuss the potential more that was desired, without commenting upon which rung of the ladder I have currently reached. In my mind, I have already reached the top, and realized that the peak might not be quite as exciting as the climb. You know, that old thing, it’s the journey and not the destination that matters. A writer writes a book. Edits it. Feels pretty good about it. Decides to shop it an agent or maybe directly to a publisher. A publisher decides to offer a contract, the deal is signed, and roughly a year later, the writer, now an author, receives ARCs in the mail. A fabulously exciting milestone that is only eclipsed by book release day, which coincided with a launch party in which the newly crowned author is praised by family, friends, and perhaps a solitary stranger from the wild he wanders into the celebration by mistake. Okay, so Velma had a pub date of April 12th. Maybe this will be the one? The one what? A book has been written, edited, sold, published, and launched. Then what? The author wants to be recognized for their work in terms of awards and sales. A modest award is realized by a company that nobody has ever heard of, and a trickle of sales leak out, the author following the Amazon Author Central page to see how the book is doing, even though the algorithm developed by Amazon has almost nothing to do with actual sales. More. This is not enough. The author wants more and bigger awards. Increased sales. Slamming their way through social media sites to promote their baby, attending expensive conferences to network and brand themselves and their book—scrapping and scraping to gain notoriety and fame, the author manages to win a more substantial award, one that people have actually heard of, and sales tick up another notch. But this is not enough. The author wants to win an Edgar, a Booker, a Nobel, or a Pulitzer. They want to open the New York Times and see their name on the list, and if really greedy, they want that name to be on the very top. The author wants the major conferences to woo them, offer them to be the guest of honor, wined and dined, and treated like royalty. But what happens when there is no more more to lust after? When the awards have piled high and the sales are on par with Stephen King? And this one author, wonders, if perhaps, it is not just enough to write. Write on.

The Roaring ‘20s was quite arguably the most exciting time in the history of the US. It was a time just after the Great War, women recently having got the right to vote, Prohibition, speakeasies, rum runners, gangsters, baseball, jazz, moving pictures, and a period of fantastic writers producing books. Paris has always been spoken of as a hot spot in this time period for all of this, but New York City was filled with legendary figures and events like no other place and time in the entire world. Dorothy Parker and the Algonquin Round Table, F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald and the start of The Great Gatsby, Babe Ruth and the New York Yankees VS the Brooklyn Trolley Dodgers, Coleman Hawkins, Ethel Waters, Louis Armstrong and so many other monumental jazz musicians; these are just the tip of the iceberg that was New York City in the 1920’s. When I decided to combine my love of history with my passion for mystery, thus, I needed to look no further than a setting of Brooklyn in the ‘20s. It didn’t hurt that I have a daughter living in Bed-Stuy there in the city, giving me the opportunity to research as well as visit. I decided to base my PI, 8 Ballo, in the next neighborhood over in Bushwick, based off a graffiti tour I participated in, and Velma Gone Awry; a Brooklyn 8 Ballo Mystery , set in 1923, was born. The starting point is a German businessman coming into the dingy PI office of 8 Ballo and hiring him to find his missing flapper daughter. 8 will learn through the course of the search that the twenty-five-year-old Velma is an incredibly talented young lady. And perhaps she is missing on her own volition, hiding from something in her past. It is also possible she’s been abducted by the Jewish gangsters Bugsy Siegel and Mayer Lansky. The investigation leads 8 to befriending Dottie Parker, conversation with Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, meeting with Coleman Hawkins and Smack Henderson, and being threatened by Siegel and Lansky. And that is just the first day. In the days that follow, other legendary figures such as Babe Ruth, Ethel Waters, and Mae West will be encountered in the search, all having connections to the intriguing Velma. 8 Ballo got his curious moniker when his mother was certain that he was going to be born a girl that she had the name Margrit picked out, but no male name. When he was born a boy, and his dad was out to sea, she merely wrote the number 8 down on the birth record, meant as a placeholder to be changed later, but never was. He is college educated, a veteran of the Great War, is in his mid-30’s, and has relationship issues. He is aided in his investigation by a colorful group who represent the melting pot that is 1920s Brooklyn. His best is Pearle Hill, a business entrepreneur he has known since they were boys playing stickball on the streets around the turn of the century. Marty Feldman is a journalist for the Brooklyn Eagle and Stephen McGee is a cop in Bushwick. 8 occasionally sees a woman by the name of Asta Holm, until the mysterious Velma complicates things. Where is Velma and why has she gone awry? Follow 8 Ballo through the streets of New York City in the Roaring ‘20s to find the answers to these questions. Velma Gone Awry is publishing on April 12th. Read on. Write on.

Should characters in books have political leanings? I mean, most people do. Some people claim that they hate politics, politicians, and never vote because they’re all crooks. But that is a political belief as well. Most of the rest of the population are just as adamant in their beliefs, be it left, right, or somewhere in the middle. I understand that you don’t want to alienate a segment of the population. But the same can be said for just about any belief that a person has. Religion. Football fan. Soccer fan. Support Immigrants. Oppose Immigrants. Eat meat. Vegan. The list goes on and on. It is my belief that creating a character in a book is like taking a store mannequin and bringing it to life. To do so, you have to provide a hairstyle, clothing, and mannerisms But this is still merely scratching the surface. If you want to truly bring this mannequin to life, you have to go deeper and reach the core essence. What is the backstory of my protagonist? Sure, Clay Wolfe has commitment issues. But why? The writer has to know this, and share it with the reader, sometimes subtly, sometimes bluntly. His parents died in a car crash when he was eight, is the short version, and the longer version continues to leak out over the course of four books now, with a fifth due in December. Goff Langdon in my Mainely Mystery series votes Independent, sometimes Democrat, and never Republican. Is that wrong? I welcome discourse, of course, on whether his political beliefs are right or wrong. The argument can certainly be made that Republican beliefs are more valid than that of Independents are Democrats. The question is: Is it wrong for him to have an opinion? There seem to be two major rules of thumb of what not to do in a book. Don’t kill a pet, especially a dog or cat, and don’t allow your protagonist to have a political belief system. I am good with the first but question the second. When a writer starts writing to not offend, then the creative process has been stymied. I don’t think we should use fiction to get on a high horse and use our novels as a podium to preach our politics, but to omit something as major as political leanings from our characters seems to be taking a step back to become an inanimate and thoughtless mannequin.