Author Jay Gould

Here’s a sample from my second novel, which continues the action from the first…

McAllister and Douglas stood for several heartbeats in the near-darkness. They were in another corridor, but this one was illuminated only by a few tiny lights mounted every few meters in a straight line down the middle of the ceiling. There were no doors and the corridor seemed to stretch to infinity. There was no sign of Hsieh.

McAllister glanced at the unused latch dangling beside the door, “We’re lucky he didn’t think to lock it behind him. Son of a bitch is fast.”

“Wait,” Douglas put up a hand and pointed ahead on the floor, “Look.”

There were spots of blood on the concrete in a trail leading away into the dimness. They both squinted along the corridor and saw a sudden flicker of movement. Watching for another few seconds, they saw it again. It was a figure passing repeatedly from dim light into shadow as it moved under the overhead lights.

“That’s him,” Douglas rasped, “C’mon!”

“Hold on,” McAllister put a restraining arm in front of Douglas and raised his gun. He sighted and squeezed the trigger. The shot rang in their ears and echoed for long seconds.

McAllister suddenly shoved Douglas against the wall as several slugs ripped past and embedded themselves in the wall around the door behind them, followed by the reverberating reports from Hsieh’s gun.

“Damn, I missed,” McAllister hissed half to himself. “Eyes aren’t what they used to be. No sense yelling at him to slow down, I suppose. Come on.”

He started forward at a fast trot and Douglas ran to catch up. They both kept an eye on Hsieh, who seemed to be about fifty meters ahead of them. The general was moving slowly now – at least the flickering of his figure moving from light into shadow and back again seemed to be slowing. His movements were jerky and side-to-side, which, combined with the intermittent darkness, made a shot difficult. They were gaining on him, though.

McAllister puffed, “How long is this bloody tunnel? A few more steps closer and I’ll put a bullet in his…shit!” Douglas saw it at the same time; a spear of brighter light that widened quickly.

McAllister pushed Douglas to the side again as something whizzed by and a half-second later a shot rang out. The light ahead narrowed to a sliver and then disappeared completely. Two short, muted bursts of gunfire echoed down the hallway to them.

“Guy went through another door!” McAllister started running again and ten seconds later the two of them thundered up to the door that marked the end of the corridor.

Douglas panted as he looked down at the handle, “Those two other shots…who would he be shooting at in there?”

McAllister shook his head and whispered, “He’s not thinking too clearly at this point, maybe. Still, we could open this and find him two feet away waiting to put bullets in our skulls. Get low,” he waved Douglas down and crouched himself, “Stay here for a sec.”

Douglas tried to get his breathing under control and crouched as McAllister reached up and gingerly pulled the handle on the door down, tensing to dash into the room. The handle depressed fully and he gave a thumbs-up to Douglas then pulled the door open abruptly. There was a spark as a bullet whanged off the metal frame above his head.

McAllister rolled through the door on his shoulder and came up firing. He released two shots ahead, then flattened.

Douglas stuck his head around and looked in. It was bright after the dimness of the corridor and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. It was a room not much bigger than the one he’d been doing research in, but this one was crammed with tables and cabinets on all sides. It was a control room of some sort, most likely for the missiles. The back half of the room was hidden behind a long metal console two meters in from the door and he couldn’t see over it from his crouched position.

He duck-walked in a couple steps and started to rise, but McAllister grabbed his shirt and pulled him down again roughly, “Dope!” He hissed into Douglas’s ear, “He’s at the far end behind a cabinet like this one, just waiting for you to stick your pointy head up.”

“I hear you back there!” It was Hsieh. His voice sounded thin and broke on the last word. Douglas could hear the man gasping and rummaging around.

McAllister yelled at the ceiling, “It’s over, General! The government’s at your front door now and you’re not getting out of here. You know that!”

They could hear Hsieh rattling around up front. McAllister signaled to Douglas to remain low and risked a quick peek over the top. He was rewarded with a bullet punching into the metal of the cabinet’s front. He squatted quickly, “Well, at least we know this thing is bullet-proof,” he tapped the cabinet with his gun.

“How come you can look and I can’t?” Douglas complained.

“Because I’m the professional,” McAllister said flatly.

Hsieh’s voice echoed hollowly, “It is indeed almost over, gentlemen but for you and for your world, not for me and mine! My time is coming now. Yours is ending!” Several more bullets banged into the console.

McAllister roared, “General, I promise you, you fire off a missile and the world is going to pummel you and this mountain into dust! Plus, I’m going to come for your throat! You won’t survive either way!”

​Hsieh’s shaking voice reverberated, “Meddling foreigners! I’ll see you all…trampled into oblivion!”

​McAllister twirled his finger around his ear and whispered, “This guy is a looney. We have to flank him. Can you…?” He waved and pointed to the end of the console on Douglas’s side and motioned that he would head to the opposite side.

Douglas nodded, Alright…what do I do then?”

“Just keep your head down until I signal, then pop up and down real fast.” McAllister admonished with a raised finger, “If you can distract him, maybe I can get off a shot from my side and finish this.” He put a hand on Douglas’s arm, “And I mean pop up and down fast, got it? If he puts a bullet in your skull, I’ll kill you.”

Douglas gave him a twisted smile, “Right. And who’s the looney here?”

They could hear Hsieh punching buttons now. As if to punctuate his actions, his words came out in cadence, “You’ll be…too late…to stop me! I am Sung! The Emerald Emperor! I’m going…to show everyone…what the real use of power is!”

McAllister indicated with his head for Douglas to go, “Buy us some time. Doc.”

Douglas took the hint. He slid to his left and moved to the end of the console. A dark smear of blood on the floor there led to the body of a soldier – one of Hsieh’s men who’d been stationed in the room, no doubt. The psycho was killing off his own people now.

Looking into the glazed eyes of the soldier, he swallowed his revulsion and bellowed, “General! Aren’t you forgetting something? I have what you want! I have the secret to your treasure and your artifact of power!” He dug in his pocket and brought out the still-blackened cylinder he’d been carrying since his escape. He held it up, expecting to feel his hand get shot off at any second.

The noise of Hsieh’s movements ceased, “That cylinder is useless without the map and Zhong’s knowledge!”

“You’re wrong!” Douglas watched McAllister reach the other end of the console and crouch, pistol held in both hands, ready to shoot. Douglas tried to put as much of the truth as he could into the sound of his voice, “We have the map as well. A map we made before Jang caught me. And we have the translation of the manuscript. We have everything with us. You never needed Zhong!”

He paused and listened. Hsieh had ceased whatever it was he’d been doing and was obviously thinking about what Douglas was saying. Douglas yelled again, hoping his words could reach through the man’s madness, “If you send up those missiles, every government in the world will hunt you down. Even if you get out of here, you’ll NEVER get your treasure! NEVER realize your true potential…as the Emerald Emperor!”

Hsieh was silent for a few seconds more. McAllister leaned out to his right and peeked around the side of the console then yanked his head back in. A spatter of rounds hit that side of the console and the wall behind.

Hsieh’s voice rang out, “That doesn’t matter now! When I put this key in and push the launch button, the world will spin on a new axis! With me at the center! I will command the world!” His voice sounded weaker.

To Douglas, the several moments of silence after that seemed to fill the universe. He felt a growing tension in the air – or maybe it was just his own nerves – but his senses seemed to kick into overdrive. Suddenly, and with growing intensity, time slowed to a crawl; everything was clearer, as if a thin film covering his eyes had been peeled away, and every sound became louder. He felt as if he could hear individual air molecules bumping and jostling around him and the world became a crystal-clear hissing realm.

McAllister shot up and Douglas saw him take aim, almost in slow motion. He thought he could hear the tendons in the agent’s fingers creaking with the effort. When Hsieh pushed the key into its slot and turned it, Douglas could hear each click as the key slid in.

The final clack when it released the cover over the launch button was almost deafening.

I hope you enjoyed this short excerpt. You can find The Emerald Emperor, as well as all my books, on Amazon by entering their titles along with my name, or by visiting my author website at:

amazon.com/author/jaygould

Here’s a sample from an early chapter of The Golden Dragon. Just a small Christmas present…

Douglas dashed onto the ferry apron just before it took off. Only a couple people made it on after him. The boat creaked away from the dock and started across the bay. Again, the smells and sights captivated him as the old steel hull thumped its way through the waves. 

He left the stern and headed up the starboard side of the vessel, his eyes straying to the horizon of low hills and water that encompassed the strait. Somewhere south along that line was the mouth of the Pearl River, which emptied into the bay carrying a lot of China’s flotsam and jetsam with it. 

It was said that at certain times in Hong Kong’s history, the Pearl River was an indicator of China’s socio-political health, judged by the number of bodies washed into the delta in any given season. During Mao’s various campaigns and purges, fishermen around Hong Kong were said to sometimes haul in more bloated bodies of people than of fish.

Douglas mused on this as he made his way along the vessel, gradually leaving most of the people behind on the stern or inside. Local commuters comprised the bulk of the passengers and they were more intent upon their own conversations or smartphones than the scenery. 

He finally sat on the low, steel bench that ran along the outside wall and leaned back. The diamond reflections of the sun on the milky green water made him squint as he watched a few ships bob past on the waves. 

A young businessman walked by muttering into his phone, and almost tripped over Douglas’s feet as he edged by. The gap between the bench and the low gunwale was quite narrow and Douglas pulled his long legs in as far as he could with an apologetic look at the man, who ignored him anyway. The only other person coming along the side was a shorter, heavy-set man in a gray coat, who seemed as entranced with the horizon as Douglas was.

The man walked toward Douglas slowly, with occasional pauses to take in the scenery. At one point he stopped and looked around, seeing Douglas and giving him a slight nod. The man’s expression was flat, but Douglas returned the nod with a slight smile. The man angled his body away, and Douglas assumed he was going to return toward the stern. He closed his eyes for a moment, smelling only the sea and the diesel, and feeling only the thrum of the engine through his body and the warmth of the sun.

Which suddenly wasn’t there anymore.

He opened his eyes at the same time he became aware that someone was near him, blocking the light. 

The man in the gray coat was looming over him, looking down at Douglas with that same flat expression. Douglas thought the man was going to ask him something and offered a flicker of a smile, but then his eyes happened to catch the long-barreled gun in the man’s hand, held at waist level and aimed right at his chest. 

A spike of adrenaline sent shocks out his limbs and he moved instinctively, jerking sideways just as the gun coughed and a flare of heat lanced through his side. Before he could recover, the man grabbed him up like he weighed nothing and ripped the shoulder bag from him, tearing the straps off at the seams. 

The bag dropped to the deck and Douglas was lifted bodily into the air, the world spinning around him. His head connected with something hard, and stars exploded across his vision, followed by a brief moment of weightlessness then a tooth-rattling impact as he hit the ocean, submerging and spinning head-down in a froth of dirty seawater. 

The water was warm, but the shock and disorientation caused him to suck in a mouthful of it and he panicked, writhing in the current of the passing vessel. The uniform green murkiness filtered the sunlight in every direction and he couldn’t see the surface, but his momentary pause was enough to allow natural buoyancy to take over and he felt his legs begin to angle downward. Desperately, he flailed in the opposite direction, lungs empty and head bursting with pain, every stroke sending a fresh stab of agony up his side.

Just as he was sure he would take that fatal, life-stealing mouthful of the sea, his head broke the surface and he gasped raggedly. A wave smacked him in the face, and he gulped water again, this time swallowing some and the bitter, salty taste galvanized him to kick out strongly with his legs, lifting him momentarily above the swell. 

Through blurry, stinging eyes he saw the stern of the ferry already tens of yards away. The people along the rail didn’t seem to notice him as most were in conversation with others or staring into their phones. He tried to yell, but another wave slapped him and choked it off. 

His clothes felt like a suit of chainmail and he could barely lift one arm out of the water to signal before the movement ducked him under the next wave and his side cramped with pain. He couldn’t seem to draw in a full breath and had to struggle just to keep his head above water.

The ferry continued on its way. There was not going to be any assistance coming from there, so he treaded water and tried to think through the pain in both his head and his side. 

He slid his left arm down and felt his inside pocket. Thank God, the cylinder was still there. It was heavy and awkward, but not heavy enough to make staying afloat much more difficult than it already was being fully clothed. 

He moved his hand across his chest under his right arm. A warmth flowed over his fingers, and he knew he was bleeding. He was afraid to probe further and was gripped by the irrational fear that blood might attract sharks, but then he remembered he was in the middle of one of the busiest waterways on the planet and predators probably avoided the area.

That presented another problem, though. If he didn’t pass out from his injuries or get dragged down from exhaustion, it was a sure bet that he might end up in the propellers of one of the scores of ships plying the relatively narrow waterway.

On the other hand, it could be his salvation.

He cast about but didn’t see any ships in the near vicinity at the moment. Of course, he was in the part of the channel that the ferries traversed, and most local traffic stayed away. However, he felt himself making some movement through the water even while treading. There was a strong tidal current that swept back and forth through the channel twice and day and he was in its grip as surely as a discarded plastic bottle. In relatively short order, he’d be out of the ferry route and on his way to the greater Pacific if he wasn’t plowed under by a cargo hauler first.

A careful, pain-wracked spin showed him that he was roughly half-way across the channel, and he tried to picture in his fuzzy head where the current would likely take him. It seemed that his best chance was to strike out for the mainland side, rather than the Hong Kong Island side, as the island itself was small and he might be past it before getting close to shore. 

Another glance in the direction of the departed ferry showed him a sister-vessel approaching from the opposite terminal, but he knew he was already being pulled out of line with the route the boats took and that he’d be far away by the time it reached the midway point.

With little hope that he’d be able to make it at all, he decided to go for it and began swimming with the current but angling himself toward the distant mainland shore. He was hampered by the wound in his side and didn’t want to think about how much blood he was losing to the sea. His right arm was useless, as he couldn’t stretch it out very far before his side burned with pain, but found he could manage with a slow, side-stroke motion on his left side that didn’t seem to be as painful or tiring. It also allowed him to keep his targeted shoreline in view while he swam.

Even a few minutes of slow swimming, however, revealed the truth of his situation to him. Blood-loss and his already tired condition had him stopping every few strokes to gasp for breath. His head was swirling and he knew he wouldn’t make it all the way to shore. His only hope was for a boat to come along in time and that seemed unlikely, but he was loathe to just give up, so he waited until his head cleared a bit and struck out again. 

He paused more and more frequently as he went, finally getting to the point where only a stroke or two was all he could manage before having to stop. Maddeningly, the shore seemed as far away as ever, but he refused to give in and simply took longer breaks, hoping for a miracle but knowing that one wouldn’t likely be coming.

*

Across the water, on the Hong Kong Island side, the ferry docked and the short, burly man in the gray suit disembarked, mixing in with the commuters. He walked purposefully, clutching a shoulder bag in one hand, unnoticed by everyone except a pair of eyes watching from a terrace across the street, behind a coffee cup and a wide-brimmed hat. 

Jen Liu-Shih, an investigator with the Ministry of Internal Affairs, followed the man’s progress across the street with her eyes and saw him climb into a green sedan, which sped away. Training took over and the car’s plate number was memorized, filed, and she turned back to watch the remaining passengers leave the terminal. 

In a seemingly casual gesture, she lifted a cellphone from the table and hit a button. Deep red painted lips spoke in clipped Mandarin, “I don’t see the professor, but some bulldog just got off the Star with what looks like the Canadian’s bag you described and took off. Where are you?”

A voice buzzed back, “Halfway across on the next boat. I didn’t make the professor’s departure, as you know.”

“Yes. Very disappointing.” Her lips were set in a grim line, “And the professor definitely got on, followed by that bulldog.” It wasn’t a question.

A pause, “Yes.”

Curses went unspoken as she watched the last of the departing passengers file out and the next line of commuters heading across begin to check their tickets and walk onto the ferry, “Then there are only two possibilities; the professor is still on the ferry, tucked away somewhere dark, or…”

“Or…?” came the query.

“Or his body is halfway to Macau by now. Either way, he’s probably dead.” 

The phone clicked off and was tossed onto the table. The rice-pudding was surely in the fire now. She took a controlling breath and picked up the phone again with steadied fingers. The hope now rested on whether Dr. Thorsby had passed the document to his friend, or whether it was still in the bag that had just disappeared into Hong Kong traffic. Delicate red fingernails pressed another button, and the news was passed on.

*

After what seemed like hours, Douglas was close to admitting defeat. No other boats had even come close and the ferries were far behind him. The channel was frustratingly peppered with vessels, but it seemed as if a conspiracy was keeping them just far enough away that his small head went unobserved in the choppy, sun-dappled water.

His breath came in shorter and shorter gasps, his legs and arms felt numb, and his shoulders and neck were rigid with fatigue. Exhaustion was claiming him and even his ears felt stuffed with wool. All he could hear was his own gasping and a rhythmic thrumming in his chest that he thought must be his blood slowing as his body systems began to shut down. 

He was almost at the point of finally giving up and just letting the jade water claim him when something struck his shoulder hard, startling him. His head was forced under, and he struggled to jerk his body around, sending a fresh wash of pain the entire length of his right side. 

He came back up and saw a broad plank, painted a faded white, with streaks and chips showing salt-bleached gray wood-grain underneath. It bobbed beside him and a dull red plimsole line showed itself. 

It was a small boat of shallow draft sliding by him rapidly in the swell.

Without thinking, he swung an arm up and grasped the low gunwale, raking his hand along the ragged, splintery wood until he caught an obstruction and his fingernails dug in. He was immediately dragged through the water, his head pummelled by waves. His entire body shrieked in pain as his stiff muscles howled and the wound in his side felt like it ripped open wider. 

The small craft dipped suddenly with the added weight and a voice called out from somewhere above in Cantonese, “Aiyah! Wai! Jo muot ye?” 

Douglas squinted up through salt-encrusted eyes and saw a leathery, wrinkled face with too few teeth jutting out above him.

The man’s startled eyes widened until it looked as if they’d pop out and a gnarled hand reached out to grab Douglas’s jacket, just as his own strength finally failed and his arm slid off the gunwale.

Unseen, another pair of younger, stronger arms reached down and grabbed him up, pulling him roughly over the side and into the flat bottom of the fishing sampan.

A mixed haze of sun glare and shadow washed across his vision as he faded in and out of consciousness and a gabble of excited voices gradually faded from a dull roar to a whisper and ultimately out. He didn’t even care if it was a prelude to death as merciful blackness claimed him. 

I hope you enjoyed this excerpt. The Golden Dragon and as well as all my other books can be found on Amazon by entering the titles and my name, or by going to my author page at:

amazon.com/author/jaygould

My next, next, next book, already completed, and awaiting my decision on its release.

What do you do as the lead detectives on a serial killer case, when your prime suspect becomes your partner?

Not only that…how do you get your heads around the fact that your new partner is also an immortal, shapeshifting being who freely admits that he kills to stay alive?

And…as if that weren’t enough, how do you deal with the fact that your new, immortal, shapeshifting, murdering partner informs you that there are even worse things running amok in your city; things that could bring an end to everything if you don’t work together to bring them down?

That’s the premise of SKINWALKER.

Liz Sorrel and her detective partner Derek Speyside reach dead end after dead end in their investigation into “The Driver” killings that have terrorized the city for weeks. Then one rainy night a seemingly unconnected murder leads them straight to the heart of The Driver case…but also thrusts them into the middle of an even darker, more deadly mystery.

Liz and Derek find themselves on the track of a killer that makes the brutal crimes of The Driver look like the work of an amateur. Their initial suspect, though, may turn out to be a benefactor who can help them solve their case, if they can get around the fact that he’s also a remorseless killer with a score of victims…among a host of other secrets he holds.

Fighting their own mistrust of their new partner, Liz and Derek try to close in on a murderer that tears its victims to shreds, while trying to keep their own monster at arm’s length. It’s a deal with a devil. Suspects and witnesses are being torn apart all around them and they don’t know whether they’ve partnered with a benefactor…or a creature that would just as soon kill them and run rampant through the city itself.

Skinwalker. Coming soon.

For more information about this, or any of my other books, search the title and my name on Amazon or go to my author page at:

amazon.com/author/jaygould

Another completed action/horror novel waiting to be released while I decide how best to do that. This is an initial idea for a cover. It’s basically an adventure story with horror and science-fiction elements.

Lee Mitchell is a chief drilling engineer reluctantly committed to what he considers a boondoggle of a job – spending years and millions on a deep drill project in Africa that couldn’t possibly lead to any significant discoveries of oil or gas. His opinion on the value of the project puts him at odds with his superiors, including Angeline, the woman he sleeps with, but he agrees to go along with it all to keep the peace – and maybe his job.

Until they discover something other than oil.

Despite being only a fraction of the way through the Earth’s crust, the primary drilling team punches through to a large cavity five miles down that results in a blowout of the drilling rig, causing massive damage. Lee and Angeline follow a damage assessment team to the site to investigate and find that the rig may be salvageable…but the drilling team manning it have all disappeared.

While trying to discover the cause of the blowout and find the missing men, the shift in their motivation for the project begins to turn from economic to scientific. This cavity far below could be a find of substantial intellectual value.

But then they see the demons. Large, black-skinned humanoid creatures cover the landscape below, looking all the world like the classical Western image of the denizens of Hell, complete with horns, tails and fangs. 

The team are split into two factions; those who believe the possibility that they have discovered Hell, and those who think it could merely be an underground realm of earth with its own different lifeforms, or even a portal to another dimension. As they debate the scientific and religious ramifications of their find, horrifying and inexplicable events above ground begin to occur.

The missing men begin to turn up.

Only they aren’t men anymore. They walk the African countryside like aimless animals, their bodies empty shells, cooked inside, their minds hollowed out.

Yet they walk.

To find the answers, Lee and the others will have to investigate further, and cameras and sensors can only show them so much. They will have to go down there, five miles below the surface; a feat that should be impossible, yet the conditions below make it feasible.

But not easy.

What they find is a terrifying and deadly place that challenges their loyalties to each other, as well as their ideas about the nature of reality…and evil. Lee and his friends also discover a new certainty about existence; that death is not the most terrifying thing we must face.

What comes after can be far worse.

This is a tentative cover for my newest suspense/horror novel, COLOR THEM GONE.

Andy Coffrey is excited. He has freed himself of the stressful, often depressing constraints of ambulance work in the city, and accepted a job as a medic in the oil fields of Northern Canada. What he doesn’t know is that this first tour is likely to be his last.

From the first plane ride in, he is plagued by frustrating equipment failures, unsettling dreams and increasingly bizarre encounters with the people around him. By the time he realizes there is something seriously wrong with the place, the attacks on him and his new colleagues turn deadly, and everyone finds they are in the middle of a war. They must fight for survival against an ancient enemy that can tear into men’s minds as easily as they tear into flesh; creatures driven by millennia of hate to murder and wreak devastation among the human intruders on their lands.

Andy and his friends have to fight, not only for themselves, but possibly for Humanity in an environment that is as deadly to them as their enemy. But how can you fight against beings that are almost invisible, and can bend men’s minds to their will and manipulate dead flesh like shadowy puppeteers?

You can’t. Sometimes all you can do is run.

This book was an easier story to get down, as its inspiration comes from my own time working air-ambulance up north in the early ’80s. Many of the bizarre situations Andy experiences come from my own time there (though I didn’t meet too many monsters). The names have been changed to protect the innocent, blah, blah, blah, but a lot of the strangeness (and strange people) he encounters I experienced myself.

Writers don’t always write what they know but when they do it most often results in their best stories. I love all the characters and tales I create but I confess to perhaps putting more of myself (as I was then) into Andy and his adventure in the strange, terrifying new world he discovers, and I feel more of a closeness to this book than maybe some of my others. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

I’m not sure whether I should wait for traditional publishing on this one or not. Even with a track record now it’s not always a smooth, rapid path from finished book to public release, Agents, editors and distributors slow things down a lot – but with good reason, obviously. The books we get off our shelves are good reads because they’ve passed through so many discriminating hands before ours. The alternative is self-publishing – either completely “self”, as my old school classmate Lorna Carleton does with her Dragon Series books, or a hybrid approach using a platform like Amazon, as I do, or an Indie niche publisher like HellBound Books who released my NOODLES book in 2021.

It’s a poser alright but I’ll let you know when COLOR THEM GONE is released.

NOODLES was my fourth published book, picked up by HellBound Books of Texas in 2020 and released in 2021. A departure from The Silk Road Series, it’s referred to as “a graphic, humorous, steampunk horror”.

It took years to write and its genesis was in the aftermath of the 2011 earthquake and tsunami in Japan, but I was very happy with it. In fact, I’m currently working (slowly) on a sequel. Don’t know when that will be done but I’m enjoying revisiting these interesting and funny characters.

It too can be found at my author website: http://amazon.com/author/jaygould

The Blade Of Shiva – the third in my Silk Road Series, written after my mom insisted the series needed a third installment in 2018. I told her I had no ideas at that time and had finished my characters’ adventure with the second book, but she challenged me.

So I sat down and started pecking away.

To my surprise, it all came easier than I’d expected. I finished The Blade Of Shiva in only 3 months and I think it’s a better book technically than the first two. My writing is more mature and I’d learned the delicate art of giving my reader enough that they could use their own imagination to flesh out details, instead of leading them by the nose through the tale. All in all it was a true pleasure to write the story and I still enjoy going back to skim through it now and again.

You can find it, along with the others in this series, and my published horrors, at my author site: http://amazon.com/author/jaygould

The Emerald Emperor (2017) was my second published novel, a continuation of the adventure started in The Golden Dragon. While pursuing the mysteries established in the first book, one of our heroes is captured by their enemies and spirited away to the hinterlands of China. His friends must overcome their own mutual mistrust and avoid being killed themselves while rescuing him, while also trying to foil the plans of their enemies, who are poised on the verge of starting a nuclear war to gain riches and power.

It was a blast to write (pun intended) and brought my initial story idea to a close. I was happy with it and determined to move on, but my mom demanded another book with the same characters, so I sat down in 2018 and started writing….

The Emerald Emperor is also available on Amazon at my author page: http://amazon.com/author/jaygould

This was my first book completed and published (albeit self-published) through Amazon in 2017. It was a long haul getting it done – 10 years or more – and ended up being a massive 220,000 words! Waaay too long for a standard novel, so I split it in half and called the first part The Golden Dragon. It established characters I’ve basically spent the past fifteen years and three books with so far. It’s kind of a classic adventure story with a mix of (I hope) entertaining characters and exotic, interesting settings that the average reader may not have been to, either in person or in print. Our mismatched international group of heroes make discoveries in this novel that propel them through the next two books and across half of Asia. It’s still available on Amazon in paperback or ebook formats and can be found at my author site there: http://amazon.com/author/jaygould