Catching a Christmas Break
Available Soon!

Jerry can't catch a break if his life depends on it...and his life does depend on it. A gambling debt gone bad, Jerry is now on the run to stay alive. Borrowing a dead Santa's suit, he hopes to elude the goons after him. But just his luck...he runs straight into the arms of the law.

Available December 1st, 2011 from Amazon.com in Kindle and BN.com in NOOK formats.

“JESUS H. CHRIST!”

He skidded to a halt, the steel door slamming shut behind him. Think. Damn it, he didn’t have time to think. With two big guys in hot pursuit of him, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out those two buffoons would soon be coming through that door like two pit bulls chasing a pound of fresh meat…and he was the fresh meat.

There, lying at his feet, was a three-hundred-pound Santa with a bullet hole in his chest. Well, what looked like a bullet hole. The thing was round and blood oozed all over the red of the suit. Poor guy still held the damn ringer in his right hand.

Without another thought, he yanked off the white fur-trimmed hat. Thank the good Lord the beard hadn’t been real, as it would definitely help him in his own getaway. In record breaking time, he sauntered off down the empty, litter-scattered alley in the red blood-smeared Santa suit, ringing the bell, leaving the poor schmuck in the pile of garbage he had likely died in, gaping whole in his chest aiming toward the heavens. Sorry, but he didn’t have time to contemplate what had happened to Santa, he had to get the hell out of dodge or wind up sharing the mattress of rubbish.

And none too soon.

Just as he rounded the corner, he heard the back door clamor open and two sets of foot falls hit the asphalt. Jerry quickened his pace and melded into the holiday crowd, not daring to look back. The slightest wrong move on his part could mean his demise. These guys didn’t play fair.

“Damn that horse anyway,” he mumbled, giving the bell an extra firm shake. It had been a sure bet. The money was as good as in his hand. He could have paid off the fat bastard who had sent those two goons after him and more. But, no, the thoroughbred had to get entangled with the horse running in second. Who hired those jockeys anyway? They both went down in a pile of horseflesh and men, thus losing the race and his damn winnings. Money that hadn’t been his in the first place. Jesus! He was as dead as Santa. Fitting how he now wore the suit.