I was born in Tralee, Ireland and now live in Newport, South Wales.
I was blessed to have been raised in one of the most beautiful places on God’s earth and, as was usual back in the day, part of a family of eight children and a huge extended bank of relations, so we were never short of company and entertainment. We were lucky to be able to spend our young years playing on the many wonderful beaches that surrounded us and were all within a bicycle ride from our house.
A chance meeting with a beautiful Welsh lady meant a huge step-change and I ended up here in Wales with two wonderful daughters who have encouraged and critiqued my work on many occasion, but always with good humour and affection.
One of the highlights of my childhood years was spending a few weeks in Listowel, Co Kerry, where my uncle Moss Scanlon had a Harness Maker’s shop. It was a magnet for all sorts of colourful characters, and it was there that my love of storytelling was kindled by the likes of John B. Keane and Bryan MacMahon, who often wandered in for a chat and bit of jovial banter.
The numerous short stories I’ve written are based on those characters and have been published in various anthologies and eMags over the years.
I have self-published twenty of them in a collection called Dreamin’ Dreams with Amazon.com.
My first novel, a thriller set in Wales during WW2, is called
Gallows Field is my second thriller and is also set in WW2, only this time in Ireland.
A Pale Moon Was Rising is a follow up thriller involving Eamon Foley again.
Footsteps is my latest thriller.
Germany invades mainland Britain. Stormtroopers swarm ashore along the South Wales beaches, determined to capture the Welsh Steelworks and Coal Mines.
Newport is blitzed. Irishman Danny O’Shea’s house is bombed and his wife is killed. His young son Adam has learning difficulties. Terrified of what the Nazis will do to him, O’Shea tries to take him to neutral Ireland.
Penniless and desperate, they head for Fishguard. But on an isolated Welsh road they witness an attack on a German convoy by Welsh Nationalists. The convoy is carrying some mysterious boxes that were discovered in a secret laboratory near Brecon.
German Captain Eric Weiss, responsible for the boxes safe transfer to Berlin, knows that his job – even his life – depends on him getting them back.
But, following a major disagreement amongst the Welsh insurgents, the boxes disappear. Then O’Shea goes to the aid of a dying woman – and both the Germans and the insurgents believe she’s told him where the boxes are.
Suddenly O’Shea is separated from his son and catapulted into a world of betrayal and brutal double-cross. Pursued by both the Germans and the insurgents, his only concern is to find Adam and get him to safety.
Dublin 1941. A brutal murder. A missing ledger. Mistaken identity. And Eamon Foley is running for his life. Tralee, nine months later, Foley is in a crowded pub. The music is loud. The singing is louder. His brother-in-law Joe McCarthy is shot dead. In the chaos Foley thinks he sees the Dublin killer rushing through the door. Is this a message? Have they caught up with him at last, looking for the ledger? Or is it as the local Gardaí suspect – Joe was killed by a jealous husband, given his reputation as a notorious womanizer? They dismiss Foley’s concerns. With horrendous results.
A murder mystery set in Ireland during WW2
A young man’s body is pulled from the River Lee. He’s wearing a distinctive silver ring. It belongs to Paudy Daly, the eldest son of the notorious Mixer Daly.
Paudy has been missing for over nine months.
He was last seen on his way to rob the house of pig breeder Jacob Butts.
So who is the dead man? And how is he wearing Paudy’s ring?
Ireland 1967. A beautiful summer. A beautiful seaside town. A beautiful American back-packer.
But the town is hiding a dark and dangerous secret. The beautiful American back-packer doesn’t notice the eyes watching her as she pitches her tent on the beach.
Then out of the darkness they come, and she’s running for her life. The only way she can run is towards the sea.
But now they’re behind her, arms outstretched