AWARD WINNING!
Commonguy.com took the bronze medal in the adventure fiction category of the Living Now Book Awards.

The Prologue
While the assassin stood two feet back from the attic window of the Stanford Memorial Auditorium and scrutinized his target area, Secret Service Agent Anita Vandy, stationed in a third story roof tower two blocks away and across the street, scrutinized hers.

She could barely see the stage of the Frost Amphitheater through the trees, but had a clear view of everything surrounding it to the west and south. She had a direct line of sight to the window high up in the Auditorium. She held her long-range weapon in ready position, safety off.

The visiting entourage stood at the front of the stage, waving to the cheering crowd. The assassin’s prey stood with his left hand resting on the shoulder of the young boy at his side. The signal man looked back over his shoulder, directly at the Auditorium attic window. The assassin centered his target’s temple in the crosshairs of the CheyTac Intervention M200 sniper rifle as the man’s head turned strangely toward him.

A fraction of a second before the assassin’s brain sent the signal to his trigger finger, the target ducked. Automatically adjusting for the movement as he squeezed the trigger, the killer saw the man bend down behind the boy, saw the boy jerk from the impact of the bullet, and instantly re-aimed for a second shot. He had no chance of getting it off.

Agent Vandy’s scope was fixed on the open window in the Auditorium. Something moved. She saw the sniper, took aim, saw his rifle spit fire, and squeezed the trigger of hers. Through her scope, she saw the left side of his face, the scarred side, explode.

All was chaos at the amphitheater. Daryl had seen Littleton look up, turning his head back and to his left. Even with dark glasses hiding his eyes, Littleton’s move, its duration and intensity, struck Daryl as out of place. He had started to glance back to follow Littleton’s fix when he felt Rory begin to quiver and sink. Rory was swooning, collapsing from the onset of another seizure. Daryl instinctively lurched down to catch him and heard a crack. Then Rory jerked toward him, pitching into his arms. In the next instant, he heard a second crack, and, horrified, realized his son’s upper left thigh was a mix of shredded pants and flesh and spurting blood.

Racine, standing to her husband’s right, saw the red flow gushing from her son and fell to her knees. Rory was fully engaged in the seizure, bleeding profusely and convulsing on the stage – a sanity-shattering nightmare for his parents. Racine ripped off her jacket, and wrapped it around the lurching wound, trying to slow the flow of blood. Her screams eclipsed the din emanating from the crowd. “Get a doctor! Get a doctor!”

What Others Have To Say:
“Commonguy.com is easy to read and well written.  The plot has enough twists and turns to keep the ending from being a foregone conclusion and enough complexity to the characters and story to keep your mind working.  I enjoyed the book and am looking forward to reading another by this author.

“I think Commonguy.com should be required reading for all politicians who are seeking office.  It might help some of the corruption going on to be eliminated.”