I would like to introduce you to fairly new authors, husband and wife team: J. A. Stinger & P. W. Stinger. I think you’ll love their day view novel, Generations Beyond!
About The Author
J.A. Stinger (1975 – Present) was born in Vero Beach, FL. J.A. started writing seriously after being diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis and craved a creative outlet. She is a wife, mother, and Army veteran. J.A. writes with her husband, P.W., and they discuss all manner of creative ideas, plots, characters, and twists together. They lived in the Midwest before having to relocate to the Greater Atlanta Metro area. J.A. and P.W. met on an online writing forum and have been together ever since.
Generations Beyond (Project: Generations Book 1)
Hidden, buried deep within the government’s archived files of failed military experiments lays a troubling secret. For years, 1953 to 1972 to be exact, a team of doctors and scientists tried unsuccessfully to alter test subjects, hoping to build living, organic weapons for the future. Eventually the project was disbanded, labeled an abject failure – but they were wrong – it just took the passage of time and altered DNA.
Now, years later, grandchildren and great-grandchildren of the original test pool are different, superior, and dangerous. Project Generations was spawned, a systematic collecting, or scrubbing, of an experiment gone awry. The Generations are hunted, collected, and eliminated before someone discovers the key to controlling them…or perhaps someone already has.
Clouded in secrecy, a General is tasked with the daunting assignment of hoarding or wiping out the past by destroying their future. Captain Christina Aarons, a cursed Generation, is dispatched by the General to locate a new partner, Captain Jonathan Cross, himself the recipient of special abilities. Together the duo battle time, the General, their attraction to one another, and unseen forces to block the laboratory testing and genocide of their brothers and sisters.
Generations Beyond will grip you and not let you go until the final page of this series is turned and the truth is revealed. Secure your copy today and discover The Generations.
** WARNING: This book contains sexual situations intended for readers over the age of 18 with violence, and strong language that may be offensive to some. The book does end in a cliffhanger. **
She leaned through the passenger window, paid the driver of the black sedan in cash. He was clean shaven in his dark pressed suit and solid black tie. She had already given him instructions to take her bags to her hotel to be delivered promptly to her room, and then wait.
“I will call when I am ready for you to come pick me up,” she abruptly told him before righting herself again and tugging down her blouse. Three stories high, it was relatively inactive aside from the occasional coming or going. She preferred it; there would be no announcement of her coming. Discretion was the key.
The man she was there to meet, Captain Cross, would be in S2, the Intelligence section, of the Battalion offices. His position as the Office in Charge, he would have rank over the department. Size would dictate if he had a separate office or not. There was no way to tell from the outside of the building. Quick steps on low heels brought her to the doors that a Private held open with a sharp salute.
Aarons saluted back and went on her way and inside. Gracefully Aarons removed her beret and tucked it smartly under her arm with the file on Cross. Eyes went from one object to the next as she took slow steps. Asking for her target’s location was out of the question. After all, she’d been in enough military buildings to know what she was looking for.
The first hallway was a bust, just plain doorways with plaques on the walls, but the second one was the key. Half-way down the hallway an electronic pad hung on the wall. Aarons watched a soldier, completely unaware of her, approached the pad, place his hand over the electric humming, and promptly open the door before he disappeared through the now unlocked doorway. Mimicking the soldier’s actions Aarons approached the electric pad and pressed a green button to the right of the keypad. When she pressed it, there came a disembodied male voice through a middling quality speaker, “hello?” His was not an impolite voice, but it definitely carried some bothered qualities.
“Visitor to see Captain Cross,” she replied.
“And the visitor’s name?”
Her reply was met with the click of the connection closing followed by a protracted silence, save for the occasional footstep somewhere in the labyrinthine hallways. The seconds passed until another, more mechanical, click heralded the replacement of that door with a man in Army green with crossed arrows on his lapel and blue-and-gold on his shoulder. There was no hesitation in the steps that took him from the room beyond, into the doorway, and into the hall; personal space be damned. Cross, the nameplate on his jacket read, and his expression seemed to match.
He was a couple inches over six foot by the looks of him, and while the uniform he wore made it hard to pin down his size, he was definitely somewhere between a stick and a sack of grain; based on his background, he was likely still in peak physical condition. For a thirty-year-old, at least. He had a full face, but not flabby, with a sharp jawline and a slightly cleft chin. His hazel eyes peered down at her from beneath thick brows furrowed with annoyance. The un-hatted head sported a freshly cut military crew and he was clean shaven with the early signs of returning stubble.
“This some kind of joke,” the tone made it a question; if it was a joke, it was clear from his green eyes and expression that it was not a funny.
The corner of her lips twitched upwards slightly at the irritation in his voice. His demeanor wasn’t something she was able to glean from his file. As is more often than not, he was much better in real life than in any picture she had been able to drum up.
“Jokes aren’t something I come by very often, Captain. Is there somewhere we can speak in private?”
“You’ve been on a base before,” less crass, more amused; still very little emotion in his face, though. It was the eyes that gave it away, “private is not something that happens all that often, Captain Aarons.”
“Touché,” giving him an amused smirk of her own. “Very well. A room without an audience will do.”
“I hardly have time for social hour, Captain,” his brows were furrowed just a touch, “you are welcome to wait until I have some down time, or you can get something on my calendar. If that is all,” he left it hanging in polite dismissal, but he made no move as to open the closed door that remained behind him.
Aarons let out a bit of a sigh as she shook her head before she let out a soft chuckle, “I was hoping this could be done in a much easier fashion, but have it your way. I have orders for you, Captain. I can simply hand them to you now and walk away, letting you go to your prepaid hotel room tonight, and get on your scheduled flight tomorrow with your many unanswered questions, or we can go to a room and talk, as I already asked. The decision is yours,” she said, lifting one arched eyebrow, glancing to the door behind him and then directly into his eyes.
The comment confused him, but that never reached his eyes or his face; easier? Delivering orders was as easy as passing out cake at a party, and hardly required a Captain from some unknown unit. Two facts that immediately drew the statement into question and left him wondering why, if he was receiving new orders, they would not be delivered by his Colonel. The whole thing felt wrong, but he could check everything out once he had the paperwork.
“Well, then,” he held out an expectant hand, “I suppose you should deliver those orders.”
She gave a little smile as she reached for the file under her arm, beret staying snugly in place. Her tightly clad leather fingers opened up the thin, tan folder to briefly expose his picture, along with dates of service, education, and tours of duty, all classified information lay barred. Pages were flipped nonchalantly before coming to the final pages, neatly stapled together. She handed them to him as her eyes met his once more.
“Your replacement is Captain Morales. He’s flying in from Fort Bragg this morning. We have a car picking him up from the airport,” the hand holding the file flipped over as she looked at her watch before turning back over, “in three minutes, barring any unforeseens. Your Colonel has already been briefed and should be expecting you at fourteen-hundred. Your room is at the Hotel Murano. Be there no later than eighteen hundred. Give them your name and they will show you to your room. Your belongings here will be packed up for you and shipped to your new assignment.”
She paused for him. She didn’t have to, she told him she wouldn’t when she gave him his options and he took door number one.
His eyes flicked over the pages he was handed while she was talking, any further objections having been quieted when he realized that she had an un-redacted copy of his service record. The fact that she had that meant she had Top Secret clearance, and that she was most likely CIA instead of Army; the last part was mostly conjecture. His lips screwed a bit as he reviewed the documentation. A change of station was not necessarily a bad thing, but it did seem to mean he would be leaving his brothers behind. While he was not exactly happy with his recent reassignment to the company headquarters from active combat, he was, at least, still a part of the team. This new development, however, threatened to take even that away from him. He would have preferred to go back to the combat deployment days of his career, but apparently he had become too valuable an asset to be risked in the field.
“You understand, of course, that I will be waiting to be relieved by Captain Morales,” it could have been a question, but the underlying tone in his voice suggested that the answer was irrelevant to what would or would not be taking place and on what timelines.
“And I’m sure you can appreciate that the hurry up and wait mentality, albeit tradition, doesn’t really fit with our timeline. Now that you have your orders and we are to be, well, let’s just say we will be spending some time together. It’s best not to get off on the wrong foot. Take my advice on this one, Captain, keep whatever you feel you need to pass on to your successor short and sweet.”
The file folder replaced her beret under her arm as she prepared to walk away, “one more thing,” she said with a hint of a pause, “dinner reservations are at eighteen thirty, please be presentable.”
And with that, she turned and walked back the direction she came. She pulled a phone from her pocket, checking a single message before placing it away again. When the turned the corner, the glanced down the hallway to find the empty spot where Cross had been standing before heading out of the building. She paused long enough to send a message to the driver to retrieve her from the offices and take her back to her hotel. All the while, her ears were actively listening.