Amazon Canada Ratings & Reviews

Amazon.com does not display ratings and reviews made by Canadians.  So let's backdoor the posts on Amazon.ca by M Rogers on there via this blog;

Little Gangsters

 out of 5 starsGreat intro book to an enjoyable series

April 22, 2019

Format: Kindle Edition

I really enjoyed this first book of the series. It captures the childhood and
introduction to these little gangster's lives, through lots a great adventures.

Bigger Gangsters

5.0 out of 5 starsI loved this book!

April 22, 2019

Format: Kindle Edition

Very well written! Building on a story arc that is very entertaining. Trying not
to give anything away, but its a bit heart wrenching, and left me hungry to
read Millennial Gangsters.

Millennial Gangsters

5.0 out of 5 starsAwesome!

April 22, 2019

Format: Kindle Edition

I loved how the main character has changed and continues to change through
this book. Great balance of drama and action!

Gangster's Girl

5.0 out of 5 starsCouldn't put this one down!

April 22, 2019

Format: Kindle Edition

The main character changes around in this one, but continues the action packed
series. I just couldn't put this one down. Fantastic story telling!

Thank you M Rogers!  I'm glad you enjoyed the series.

Fate

“I’ll go if you want …” B_ said, then stalled because she was about to use the word ‘but’ and that word was a thief.  Instead; “Please take me back.” a shuddering breath, then;  “Please.” and her voice was weak with need, making her sound lost and lonely.

Then, when he didn’t answer;

“You deserve more than I am, M_.  I know that.  But no one wants more for you than I do.  You were promised greatness and I want to be the one standing by your side, being soft for you, being your comfort and sanctuary.  I promise I will do my best to be those things for you if you’ll only take me back.”

M_ gazed down at her, seeing only shadow, knowing that if he could see her face, look into those grey/green eyes, his resolve would crumble.  Whether it was fate reaching into the world or simple coincidence, the neighbour turned on his kitchen light and the goldenness of it shining through the thin curtains painted B_’s face and M_ saw the shine of her cheeks where hours of tears had painted their sorrow, and the glint of those pleading, honest eyes glowed, and the rusty sheen of her auburn hair framed her paleness, and he was lost.

God help us; in that moment we all were.

First Crush

We drove to Jaimie’s trailer and F_ dashed up onto her porch before I could get the car in park.  F_ was hammering on the door as I got out and walked up to the stairs.  No one answered the door.

“She’s not answering.” F_ said, pounding harder, “We have to check on her, Dad.  Make sure she’s okay.”

“F_.”

“We have to break in or something.”

“F_.”

“Dad!”

I stepped up onto the porch and turned him by the shoulders to face me.

“F_.  Listen to me now.” I said as his eyes found my face - the poor kid was stricken and in that moment I had no doubt that he loved her, “She probably went in the ambulance with her mom.  Let’s make some calls and find out where her mom is, then we’ll know where Jaimie is.”

“And we can go see her?” F_ pleaded, “She needs someone with her if her mom’s that sick.  She needs us.”

“I know, son.  Yes, we’ll go see her.” I said and gave him the hug I think he needed.  I couldn’t remember what it was like to be ten and have a crush as big as F_ had for Jaimie.

Author Interview on NFreads.com

Online interview

Desert Retirement

“Alright T-J.  Let’s see your product.” M_ said and T-J handed it over.  M_ dug through the plastic shopping bag and took out a bundle of coke bags.  I could see the problem from where I was standing.

“You stepped on it and rebagged it.” M_ said.

“No.” T-J lied, “That’s the way I got it.”

“You couldn’t even be arsed to find the same jewelry bags.” M_ said, “These have a blue seal, ours are clear.”

“Look, man.  They got messed up, I had to rebag them.” T-J said, his face paling, “I told you I had a shit week.”

M_ dug out the heroin and the meth and tossed the bundles to Vince and Digger, “Divide it up between you.” he told them.

“What about me, man?” T-J said.

“You’re retired, and you owe three grand for the coke you stepped on.” M_ said, holding up the plastic shopping bag, “This shit is useless now.”

“How am I going to find three grand?”

“You’re not.” M_ said and pulled his Taurus from the back of his waistband and shot T-J in the forehead.  Vince and Digger almost left the ground they jerked so hard when M_’s pistol thundered. 

I was expecting it and had plugged my ears – I knew T-J was a dead man as soon as I saw the rebagged coke.

'__&__'

Amalgamous Characters

Most of the characters in my novels are amalgams of a number of people I have known in life.

For example; in my current project there is an eight year old boy – the son of the story's narrator.  He is comprised of three boys I encountered over the years; one as a Scout leader; one as a Counsellor to at-risk youth, and one I knew as a child myself.  Taking pieces of all three, I have created a boy who is thoughtful and generous, bold in play, and unguarded when expressing love.  Even his physical make-up is a combination of the three; unruly dark hair, athletic and lean of build, and an expressive face.

I have arrived at a boy who is a silent grump in the morning and a happy chatterbox in the afternoon; a boy who plays hard and sleeps with the innocence of a puppy; a boy who is crushed by tragedy, yet courageous when facing it.

Once a character is as fleshed out as he is, his dialogue and actions begin to write themselves.

When a writer creates solid characters that are three dimensional in this way, they are powerful creatures and will change the story by being in it.  They also eliminate writer’s block; whenever I feel the story is lagging, I place my character in a challenging – sometimes inescapable situation, and let them work their way through it.

The emotional downside to this is that you find yourself falling in love with them, so when you are forced to ‘kill your darlings’ – (as Stephen King recommends) – you grieve their loss as though they were real people. 

Yet as Robert Frost once said; “No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise in the writer, no surprise in the reader.”

Fathers & sons

On the way back home I had a conversation with  F__ that I’d had with him twice a year;

“You remember where the go-bag is?”

“Yeah.” F__ said, rolling his eyes like he always did.

“Humour your old man.” I said and nudged him with my elbow.

“It’s under the shed, double bagged in garbage sacks.” F__ said.

“And when do you go for it?”

“If you don’t come home when you say you’re going to and don’t call.”

“Or ...”

“If M__or Mom or Jamie say so.”

“Where do you go with it?”

“To M__.”

“Not Mom?”

“No.  Not Mom.”

“Because?”

“She’ll gamble all the money.”

“Good.” I said, “I know you love Mom, but she has a problem and we have to be real about it.”

“I know.” F__ said, staring out at the shadowy desert and the distant glow of local towns.

“Who do you give the big envelope to?”

“M__.”

“Nobody else?”

“The cops if M__ comes up missing too.”

“What’s in the bag that you need to keep secret?”

“The bank book in my name.”

“What’s the money for?”

“My education.” F__ said, “For college.”

“Not for a hot car or to spend on girlfriends.”

“Dad.”

I laughed.

I guess most fathers don’t have go-bags for their kids, nor have those kinds of conversations with them, but even though D__ treated me well and trusted me as much as anyone in his crew, I didn’t trust him.

'__&__' (hush, it's a secret until it's published)

Mysticism vs Horror

A Twitter poll has my fans choosing mysticism over horror.  Betwixt is now on hold and the novel-whose-name-shall-remain-secret will advance.

Yes, the name will remain a mystery and character names will be represented by single letters in excerpt until the date of publication, because ... well, that's a secret too.

Desert Mystic 1

Their bodies clashed and he was suddenly inside her and their first orgasms came quickly but only felt like prelude.  They writhed and clung and growled and purred and their desires were far from quenched until they reached a crescendo; B overwhelmed by her first blooding of war and M feeling alive once more after the coldness of his combat focused mind.

As M loomed over her and she gazed up at him with the same intensity she had as she slammed the Charger into the Rebel biker, her mouth pulled into a grimace, hissing her breath through clenched teeth.  She grasped his wrists and pulled his hands to her pale throat.

“Choke me!” she gasped, and his fingers closed tight.

THAT DOG DON'T BARK preorders

The preorders are racking up for this quirky romance, crime thriller.

It feels as if it's Jackie and Angel against the world, and in a very real way it is.  An international gang of human sex traffickers are operating in East Vancouver and have set their sights on the young couple – if they can't seduce them with heroin, sex, and promises of riches, they will take them by force.  Jackie and Angel can only rely on each other to survive.

If you want to experience a profound young love story with a backdrop of human sex trafficking, preorder the ebook here.

Done!

'That Dog Don't Bark' is awaiting presale approval on Amazon and will be available as an ebook or paperback on May 15, 2019.

Subtitles ...

If you've read Bigger Gangsters you know that each chapter has a subtitle that is a song title popular during the time frame of that story - 1969 - and each song has lyrics that relate to the actions or mood in that chapter.  Because That Dog Don't Bark is a companion piece to Bigger Gangsters, taking place in 1975, I followed that same formula.

In the chapter when Jackson becomes complacent and is kidnapped by his and Angel’s arch nemesis, the subtitle is Idiot Wind by Bob Dylan, reflecting Jackson’s thoughts about letting his guard down and falling prey to that dangerous gang.

You can listen to it here.

Loud Trains ...

I managed to get Angel to the car and pushed her into the passenger seat and closed the door.  Only then did I look around.

No one was near us.  The train cars still crashed and thumped against each other on the other side of the fence. The van sat quiet behind Camus’ warehouse, the dome light through its open door a dim spotlight casting a sick yellow glow on Christian’s body, face down in the gravel behind it.  

Looking over my shoulder I could see a guy gassing up one of the yellow cabs like nothing had happened.  There were no distant sirens and no one had come out of Camus’ warehouse.

The sound of the train cars crashing together had drowned out the gunshots.

I pulled the pistol out of my jacket and threw it hard and high, watching it spin into the darkness of the train yard, then got in the car, started it, and drove us away from that place of horror.

Detours ...

I set out to write a companion piece to 'Bigger Gangsters' about a small time crook in a big scary world, and ended up writing a romance that brings tears to my eyes as I work through the final edit.  Jackson and Angel forever!

Coming this spring to Amazon.

'It's a love story with just a little arson and murder'

Editing; Angel's sorrow

Angel was still deep in her sorrow the next morning.  Her eyes were red and her face was puffy and when I turned to face her in the cold blue light of dawn, she stared right through me.

Angel had withdrawn into herself, closing the door behind her - a door painted the dark unfamiliar shade of grief and mourning trimmed out with the tarnished brass of personal horror.

It was past noon when I felt her stir and she shook the sleeves of her sweatshirt until her small pale hands emerged and threaded their way around me, her arms gathering me to her as she pressed her forehead lightly against my cheek.

“Thank you for loving me.” she whispered, “Even now.”

My Angel was coming back to me and I slowly painted her hair and forehead with light kisses and just did that one thing that I knew how to do - I loved her.

“Thank you for being soft with me.” her whispered words like wisps of feathers, “For holding me so gently when my heart is broken to pieces and I’m not giving anything back.”

I felt my eyes well as tears of gratitude overflowed for my girl reemerging.

“Thank you for walking with me when I feel lost.  For guiding me home - always home where I’m safe.” her voice hitched and I felt her tears on my cheek, “Thank you for being you, Jackson.”

We held each other as the light faded from the world outside.

Editing; Angel's music II

“Jackson, my sweet boy.  This is my Christmas present to you.”

Then she began to play familiar chords and sang ‘Your Song’ by Elton John to me.  It is a sweet song about loving someone dearly but not having money, so the song is the gift, and it was made sweeter as Angel sang it to me with tears flowing down her cheeks and a smile curling her lips.

As we all listened, tears welled in my own eyes as my heart swelled in my chest and I wasn’t alone; people around me were dabbing their eyes and couples wrapped arms around one another to draw close.  Angel created a moment of singular magic with her clever fingers and her lilting voice, and in that moment I thought I could not love her more - but I could, and did, but that part of our story comes later.  That Christmas and that moment has never, and will never fade from my memory.

The night my Angel sang to me.

Editing; Angel's music

“What is that?” I asked.

“It’s part of sonata number eight by Beethoven.” Angel said in a dreamy voice, “It’s for piano, but I figured it out for guitar.”

“It’s sweet and sad.” I said, “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah.” Angel said as she kept playing it, her fingers light on the strings, weaving the notes together so it sounded like more than one person playing.

“Music is life, Jackson.” she said softly, “It’s sweet and it’s sad, and that’s what makes them both beautiful.”

I wanted to go to her and hold her because I loved her and she helped me see things differently, but instead I set down my book and closed my eyes and listened to the music she conjured from her small guitar and marvelled that she was my girl and wondered what I had done to deserve her.

Editing; Angel and Jackson's love

From 'That Dog Don't Bark'

“Why are you interested in me?” Angel asked after a moment, laying down beside me with her elbow on the bed, cradling her head in her hand.

“Because you’re awesome.” I answered.

“That’s no answer.”

“Yes it is, and it’s true.” I said.

“Come on.” she said, nudging me playfully, “You could have any girl.”

“Not so much.”

“I bet you’ve had lots of girls.”

I felt my cheeks flush.

“What?” Angel said, getting more curious, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me?”

“You’ll laugh at me.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“No, I guess you wouldn’t.” I said, then; “You’re my first.  Last night, you were my first.”

There was a pause and I was too afraid to look up.  Then I felt her move and felt the heat of her body.

“Oh, baby.” she whispered, wrapping her arms around me and pulling my face to her chest, kissing the top of my head, “That’s the sweetest thing.”

Editing 'That Dog Don't Bark'

The next morning after I came out of the bathroom and saw her standing in her t-shirt preparing our morning coffee, goosebumps from the cold air tickling the flawless pale skin of her thighs and bum, I felt a wave of love for her stronger than ever before.  My Angel was so brave to carry that secret for so long and still face each day with her head held high, with alternating flames of defiance and twinkling of a young girl’s mischief in her eyes.  My Angel was a warrior and more courageous than anyone I’d ever met, and there she stood, confident and filled with purpose as she went about her morning routine, unbowed by her confession to me the night before.

I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her and nuzzled the nape of her neck, the small curls there tickling my nose.

“I love you.” I said with more conviction than I had ever felt.

“Still?”

“Always.”

She set the reassembled coffee pot on the glowing hotplate and turned in my arms to loop hers around my neck.

Welcome

Welcome to my author's notes blog spot.

It is here that I will keep my fans apprised of progress on my current project; include excerpts from novels I'm working on; give occasional commentary on the world according to a cynical optimist; and  yes - brazenly promote my books.

To start you off ... 

• You can find my website; Gangster Story here, where you can see and read sample chapters of my published and soon to be published works.
• Or visit my Amazon author page here, where you can purchase my published works and have me forever grateful - doubly so if you write a quick (or extensive) review.
• Or jet me an email at aaron@gangsterstory.ca and I'll do my best to answer you in a timely manner.

Cheers ~ Aaron D McClelland