The novels are where it all began. The author R. Archer wrote Gold Digger, the first Harvey Valentine Novel in 2015, and began writing the 2nd novel (The Judge and the Cultist) before even finishing the first novel. He completed it a month later. The intent was to release it sooner in 2015, but with the way life is, busy as it is, it got set back a bit, but the good news it will be published and released by the end of this month. That is our goal to have had 3 Novels by R. Archer published this year in 2015, the year they were written in.
Here is a fun, excerpt from THE JUDGE AND THE CULTIST.
Brief Synopsis:
Harvey is hired by the wife of a Judge, who, it seems has lost all interest in her and their marriage; hired to find out what is occupying the Judges free time and thoughts, Harvey discovers a cult, led by a charismatic leader and encounters a list of characters that will make you grin or laugh.
(c) 2015. R. Archer.
My old friend Detective Harris
would joke I looked like a college professor or an author. A compliment that
others had bestowed on me as well. I took note of the comment and often used it
to serve as background for undercover work and would introduce myself when
asked what I did for a living? My favorite
was to tell people I was a professor at Miskatonic University. A fictional place, appearing in the literary works based on
the writings of H.P. Lovecraft.
If asked here tonight, my alibi
would be I was an author. I liked to mix
it up once in a while.
The sound of a body hitting the
floor got my attention two pews over to the left.
A gentlemen sitting next to whom I presumed was his wife, bobbed forward,
unstable, he tried to raise his hands to steady himself, and the effort made
him pass out. The man, of about thirty, fell forward, his shoulder
hitting the pew in front of him. He slowly slid down the back of the pew and
hit the floor hard in the isle next to the man already on the floor.
“Jesus Christ,” I said aloud,
breaking my silence. I looked around to
see if my utterance drew any attention. Nobody paid me any. The minister finally stood up straight.
“Jesus speaks through me God’s
children.” His voice boomed through the
rafters of the church. “Listen to his words,”
he
barked in a deep bass.
The
pigeon spooked once again, fluttered about in a chaotic circle over the
congregation. It shit as it passed over
the minister and the altar.
The pigeon shit sailed like a
paratrooper descending at a forty-five-degree angle. The poo hit the side
of the altar and stuck.
The Lord God gave me a sign. This
sham was nothing but bullshit or pigeon shit. The parishioners didn’t think so.
A few gasps arose from the pews, and “Awes”.
