Spanish Prisoner Synopsis
Tucker Blue, fresh off a divorce and diving headfirst into the shark-infested waters of midlife dating, never saw it coming. He was the perfect mark, the ideal target for a scam older than sin itself—Spanish Prisoner.
It all started with a girl, as these things often do. Monica Reyes, with a face that could stop traffic and curves that could cause a pile-up. Tucker fell hard, fast, and stupid the moment he laid eyes on her at the airport.
When their standby status left them both grounded, Tucker, thinking with the wrong head, convinced Monica to join him on a spur-of-the-moment jaunt across the pond. London, then a fancy train ride through France, all the way to Barcelona.
But somewhere between his relentless pursuit of Monica’s favors and his romantic fumbles, Tucker stumbled ass-backwards into a government sting operation. And just like that, he was holding the winning lotto ticket—a cool €120 million, the bait meant to snare a big-time crook.
Now, Tucker and Monica are in the crosshairs, with not one but two crews of bad guys hot on their heels. They're running for their lives, ducking and weaving through Barcelona's underbelly, from swanky hotels to the seedy maze of Barcelona’s El Raval barrio and eventually a 12th-century castle, where even the ancient stone walls are demons nipping at their heels.
Trapped in a pressure cooker of danger and desire, Tucker and Monica's fledgling love faces trial by fire. They're forced to confront not just the threats lurking in every shadow but their own honesty, devotion, and the uncertain specter of their future. In the end, it’s more than a battle for survival; it's a voyage of self-discovery, where true courage is measured not in the face of danger but in the depths of enduring love.
This is no candy-coated love story, folks. "Spanish Prisoner" is a blood-and-lust-soaked trip to the heart of man's more primal impulses. One-part erotic potboiler, one-part Hitchcockian thriller, author Jack Dancer turns the screws 'til you're squirming, dying to know whodunit.
But don't expect a tidy little whodunit. This is edge-of-your-seat suspense, the kind that sinks its teeth in and doesn't let go. Dancer delivers a fever dream of a story that'll scorch your eyeballs, set your hair on fire, and make you laugh ’til your teeth fall out.
Fair warning: once you start, you won't be able to stop.
So strap in, grab your crotch, and prepare for the ride of your life. "Spanish Prisoner" will rope you, grope you, and leave you panting in a tangled heap, begging for more.
Warning: Mature Content Ahead. This is no ride for the faint of heart. You’re about to experience a no-holds-barred, unflinching look at love in the mid-life lane. Buckle up
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Harald's Gold Synopsis
This ain't for the faint of heart, so buckle up.
Our tale kicks off with Billie Skye, a no-nonsense doc, watching a Nigerian kid take a bullet and shrug it off like it's a mosquito bite. Yeah, you heard right—bulletproof skin. And that’s just the opening act in this carnival of chaos.
Fast forward a few years, and Billie’s got a Hausa warrior hot on her heels, sent by Nigeria's whackjob Prez for life, Big Johnson Mambo-Sambo. He’s got Billie mixed up with her mercenary-for-hire twin brother Willie, who’s now rocking a skirt and answering to Fiona. Problem is, no one clued in Tucker Blue, Billie’s DNA-matched flame, who Fiona’s been slipping in on to give her new girly parts a whirl while Billie’s out on nighttime walks with insomnia.
But wait, there's more!
Fiona’s not just playing the role of Billie’s doppelganger. She’s also on a mission to rescue a hundred Nigerian schoolgirls from the twisted clutches of the C.O.T.S. Institute, where they’re being prepped for black-market organ harvesting on Resurrection Island. It’s a high-stakes game of cat and mouse, with lives hanging in the balance.
Meanwhile, Billie and Tucker, along with seven other DNA-matched couples, are on a mad dash across Scotland hunting a legendary Viking nugget so massive it took sixteen beefy dudes to haul it. Legend has it that Viking King Harald Hardrada left it behind after botching his 1066 invasion of England. The gold’s supposed to end up with Oberon, the fairy king, in exchange for the final wave of a Fairy Flag, which will summon a fairy army to kick the English out and free Scotland.
Sounds crazy? Welcome to Scotland, a land of contradictions where scientific marvels like the telephone, logarithms, and the Higgs-Boson particle theory bump uglies with Pictish stone circles, fairy pools, and Kelpies.
And in the midst of all this, Billie’s got Tucker’s heart on a string and his libido in a vice, making him unfazed by all the Scottish legend hoopla. But things are about to get really messy when Tucker finds out Billie’s signed on as Director of Medical Services with the C.O.T.S. Institute, the very same creeps Fiona’s trying to thwart.
Still in the wings: a 400-year-old dead witch dropping treasure hunt hints, a mob snitch turned witness protection escapee with his sticky-fingered gal, body-part-hosting cops, rogue F.B.I. agents, and Mario, Luigi, Butt-Monkey, Bowser, and Wiggler—a squad of anthropomorphic drones straight out of a Nintendo fever dream.
So grab your junk, pound a whiskey, and get ready for a balls-to-the-wall thrill ride that'll leave you bruised, breathless, and begging for more. "Harald's Gold" is gonna take you on a hilariously wicked trip you won't soon forget.
Warning: Mature Content Ahead. This is no ride for the faint of heart. You’re about to experience a no-holds-barred, unflinching look at love in the mid-life lane.
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American Picts Synopsis
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​In the shadow-draped hollows of McKinnon County, enfolded within the cerulean crests of North Carolina's Blue Ridge Mountains, an age-old secret thrums. This untouched domain is the fount of the world's purest quartz, a substance vital to the semiconductor industry—the scaffolding upon which rests a trillion-dollar technological empire. Here, in McKinnon County, hinges the destiny of our digital era, its fate precariously poised.
Yet more than mere earth is steeped in legend; the lifeblood of Charlie McKinnon, a man of prodigious appetites who sired 52 progeny across four wives, pulses through the mountain folk. Descendants of ancient Pictish warriors, these American Picts bear ancestry that etched defiance on skin in hues of blue, vanquishing Rome's legions on Caledonia's wind-scoured moors.
Into this labyrinthine tapestry of history and avarice strides Julian Blackhardt, a billionaire of glacial blood, his stratagems poised to wield power on a global scale. His pawn? The vulnerable heiress to the selfsame mining concerns that pillage the county's wealth. But as the machinations of Blackhardt's ilk unspool, so too does their schematic fray, commencing with the hushed utterances of Silas Troutman, whistleblower.
Tucker Blue, believing his purpose a mere visitation at his uncle's behest, finds himself tempest-snared, far beyond reckoning. Greeted by a Slaughterbot—a harbinger of death better suited to a dystopian nightmare than Appalachian hollows—he is thrust into a maelstrom of high-tech butchery, political intrigue, and an amor blossoming amidst bedlam.
But a deeper decay festers in McKinnon County, a putrid wound of inequity that has enshrined its society in pristine "lily-white" through generations. As Tucker exfoliates this insular community's layers, a bold stratagem unfurls to unseat Blackhardt. Yet in murky waters where friend and foe interchange faces, where truth bears the mask of lies, McKinnon's very soul teeters on a razor's edge.
With confederates unforeseen, technologies unfathomable, and verities unbearable, the denouement looms—a reckoning entreating whether specters of eras past may ever truly emancipate the future. As the final act careens towards climax, a singular question smolders in McKinnon County's breast: Are history's phantoms the key to salvation or damnation?
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Green Valley School Synopsis
This story transpires over one brief time in my youth when I encountered the strangest, perhaps most controversial, school in America and the man who founded it, the Reverend George von Hilsheimer.
It was America's first "free school," or "freedom school," operating during one of the most exciting but tumultuous periods in American history, the 1960s and early '70s. Reverend George called his school an "anarchic, authoritarian democracy" and accepted kids no one else would take.
Because the school followed precepts utterly foreign to American educators, bureaucrats in positions of authority, and politicians, everyone was determined to destroy it. It was simply too unorthodox and counterintuitive to traditional concepts.
The school went through several iterations, beginning as a summer camp in Rosman, North Carolina, called Camp Summerland, where it was burned down and shot up by a mob of 400 racist hillbillies only to be run out of the state before moving to upstate New York, where it became Summerlane School. Within a year, it was closed down by the New York Department of Education and ran out of state.
Finally, after relocating to Orange City, Florida, it was renamed the Green Valley School, where a state senate committee investigated it, a state attorney’s office with a hundred cops raided it, which led to a coven of devil worshipers murdering a Green Valley student and eventually another investigation, this time by the United State Senate. Hundreds of headlines ran in newspapers all across North America, even internationally.
As student Billy Burroughs, son of the famous beat writer William Burroughs, said, “The school had begun as a commune modeled on the Summerhill School, then slowly degenerated into a mental ward, as so often happens with communal experiments. Everybody there had one ‘behavioral disorder’ or another. The students ranged from competent to brilliant to stark raving mad.”
Pageant magazine, a national publication no longer published, called it "America's Most Unusual School." Time magazine called it the “Valley Of Horrors. Highly respected educators called it "A most serious and vital experiment" and "the most exciting and productive educational innovation in America." But, as with nearly all dramatic innovations, the school attracted many detractors who condemned it. They didn't understand it.
I'm not sure I ever understood it, either.
The one thing I can say with certainty is the Reverend George and Green Valley School saved my life, and that’s my inspiration for writing this story. And although I reach into my personal experience as a volunteer staff member at Green Valley and afterward to bring insight and color to what was such a bizarre, nearly unfathomable place, it is not enough. There is far more to the story of Green Valley School than my meager experience could offer. Therefore, I have drawn upon over 400 other sources to ensure a more comprehensive accounting of people and events.
As I said, all events in this story are true, coming from either my first-hand knowledge or from the research I’ve gathered from books, newspaper and magazine articles, transcripts of court and senate hearings, and interviews. The names represent actual people, though many have passed. Others are rendered anonymous using initials to protect privacy. All locations are the actual places where events took place.
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Jack Dancer: A Life Less Ordinary.
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Jack Dancer isn't your average Joe – he's more like a human pinball, bouncing from one insane situation to another with all the grace of a drunk elephant.
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Born with a silver-plated spoon in his mouth (which he promptly hocked for beer money), Jack's been everywhere from the gutter to the penthouse, sometimes within the same week.
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By 11, Jack figured out Santa was just Dad with a better PR team. By 13, he discovered girls were not, in fact, icky. By 14, he decided God was just another adult-approved fabrication for the gullible and about as real as his chances of becoming a professional yodeler.
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At sixteen, high on hormones and low on common sense, Jack decided the South was too small for his dreams. So, he rounded up a teenage dream team - his best friend and two willing jail baits - and made a beeline for the Big Apple. But instead of fame and fortune, they found themselves living in a basement with a wino and a dwarf until Daddy dearest drug his ass back home.
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Lesson learned? Nah, just the first chapter in Jack's "How to Piss Off Authority" guidebook.
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At eighteen, he landed a gig at an infamous Florida school for sociopaths, which miraculously earned him a "get out of Vietnam" pass. He then hitched to Boston with a new wife and a cat, embracing the counterculture and anti-war vibes of the time—while working as a welder for a major defense contractor.
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Yep, life is one big contradiction.
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Jack's resume reads like a drunk's dartboard of career choices. Ice cream man? Check. Boardwalk barker? You bet. Welder, drywall guy, snake oil salesman – sorry, "advertising executive." He's done it all, usually just long enough to get fired or bored, whichever came first.
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Jack’s early education came courtesy of his father’s hand and belt, followed by a post-grad crash course on street smarts and hard knocks, baby. Oh, and some fancy degrees he probably bought off a guy in an alley.
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It all landed him back in New York, slinging bullshit on Madison Avenue. Life's a circle, and Jack's riding it like a drunk on a merry-go-round.
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Money? Jack's bank account has had more ups and downs than a menopausal rollercoaster. He's been so broke he couldn't pay attention and rich enough to blow through millions. The only constant? His talent for spending it all.
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Marriage? Jack's been to the altar more times than a narcoleptic priest. Four wives, countless "almosts," and one 28-year marathon that probably qualifies him for sainthood; one "oops, how did that happen?" moment, and a current "till death do us part" gig with a California girl named Penny because the fourth time's the jackpot, right? Finally, Jack’s writing the chapter titled "Happily Ever After... No, Really This Time."
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Fatherhood taught Jack that having kids is like getting a tattoo on your face—seemed like a good idea at the time, but now you're stuck explaining it for the rest of your life.
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Jack's life philosophy is as subtle as a sledgehammer to the nuts. God? Santa? Tooth Fairy? All bullshit. The real force running the show? Testosterone – nature's very own weapon of mass destruction. It's why we have skyscrapers, monster trucks, and an inexplicable number of "Fast and Furious" movies. It might even be God himself.
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In the end, Jack Dancer is just riding this cosmic rollercoaster called life; middle fingers raised high.
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In Jack’s book, life is simple: it’s the stretch between birth and death, and there’s no sequel. Be grateful for the ride. You’ve already won the cosmic lottery just by existing, so go out a winner—only losers cry for more.
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p.s. Jack’s considering a pen name - something Smith or Jones.