Born in, raised in, and a lifelong Midwesterner, I’m a walking, talking cliché. (And yes, I realize that “walking, talking” is pretty much a cliché in itself.) For over a quarter century, I worked as a teacher of English and communications while churning out fiction on the side. However, it’s hardly been a fast track (darn, another cliché) to success:
When I was in fifth grade, I read a short story by Arthur C. Clarke called “The Star.” To this day, it probably ranks as my favorite short story. Even at such a young age, I was blown away by how epic of a narrative Clarke tells in something like, maybe, two thousand words.
When I was nineteen, sitting at home bored one day, I decided to haul out my mother’s old Smith-Corona typewriter and, for lack of anything else to do, took a stab at hammering out a short story of my own. (Spoiler, it was total dreck.)
At the age of twenty-four, my first story appeared in print. Titled “The Prime Ingredient,” it showed up in one of the old-time “little” magazines, in this case a publication from South Carolina called Starsong that had a total readership of around two hundred. Even so, it was not only my first fiction publication, but Starsong continued to publish more of my stories over the next few years. (Wherever you are, thank you publisher and editor Larry D. Kirby III.)
In between that first published story and what was to come, I worked in a candy store to pay my way through ten years of night school, acquired a bachelor’s and a master’s, landed my first teaching job through a complete fluke, (teaching was not in my career plan at all), and after a few years of bouncing around found myself working at a small high school in rural Missouri. All that time, to one degree or another, working at honing my fiction writing skills.
Fast forward (cliché again and really not all that fast) to the ripe old age of forty-eight when my first “book” a novelette titled One Helluva Gig, appeared in e-book form, released by Vagabondage Press out of Florida. A different genre from most of my material, “Gig” tells the story of a faded rock and roll superstar and how his death and posthumous notoriety impacts a man with only a passing acquaintance of the star. A new edition of Gig is currently available from The Wild Rose Press.
Now, over a decade removed from that first e-book publication, we’re up to two series of mystery novels: the set of books that began with The Group, currently out via The Wild Rose Press, and the Sam Quinton private detective series, released by Camel Press. I also have a couple of standalones released by Night to Dawn Magazine and Books.
August of this year saw the release of Private License, the fifth in the Sam Quinton series, coming out a little over a year after I retired from teaching.
A long journey, a rather bumpy one, and one that I plan to not conclude for quite some time to come. In the future, I plan to do a bit of traveling, get a pet to keep me company, and oh yeah, keep churning out the fiction.
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Title: The Group
Author: Kevin R. Doyle
Genre: Mystery
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press (Print and E-Book), Books in Motion (Audiobook)
Book Blurb
Sure, Ron Green had made a mistake, but it wasn't one that millions of other guys hadn't made before him. And maybe he deserved some sort of punishment, like his wife leaving him or his kids hating his guts. But this? Being the main suspect in a single murder was bad enough, but at the same time knowing he was a potential victim of a serial killer was even worse. However, before Green could convince the cops of his innocence, he first had to convince them the serial killer actually existed, and at the moment they weren't believing a thing he said.
Excerpt
Hollis fell silent as the ME went about her business although even he could pretty much guess what had happened. With no exit wound, the small caliber bullet had no doubt buried itself somewhere inside the skull, probably after ricocheting around for a while.
“So how many does this make?” she asked without looking up. “Have you all hit the triple digits yet?”
“Actually,” he said, “we passed the hundred mark at the end of last month. I’m not sure what number this one makes.”
“Well,” the ME said as she stood up and stripped off her gloves, “I won’t be able to put anything down officially till I get him on the table, but it’s pretty obvious what happened here.”
“One bullet back of the head,” Hollis said.
“Right. Which gets back to the oddity.”
“How did he end up lying face up?”
“Exactly. Even a .22, in the back of the skull, should have sent him tumbling forward. This looks almost apologetic. Could it have been some sort of a robbery?”
“That’s the nice thing about it, Hollis. My part’s easy. I just have to come up with the means. You guys get to do the whole motive and opportunity thing.”
Hollis grimaced as she walked off.
“Oh by the way.” She turned back to him. “I checked with the office before I left. This makes number one hundred twelve for the year. And only sixteen days to go.”
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Author Biography
A retired high-school teacher and former college instructor, Kevin R. Doyle is the author of five novels in the Sam Quinton mystery series, all published by Camel Press. He’s also written four crime thrillers, including And the Devil Walks Away and The Anchor, and one horror novel, The Litter, along with numerous short horror stories published in small magazines over the years. The first Quinton book, Squatter’s Rights, was nominated for the 2021 Shamus award for Best First PI Novel, and the fifth in the series, Private License, was released in August of 2024.
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Title: When You Have to Go There
Author: Kevin R. Doyle
Genre: Mystery
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press (Print and e-book) Books in Motion (audiobook)
Book Blurb:
The last year had not been kind to Det. Helen Lipscomb. She'd bungled a major case, been reassigned from her squad, and had her partner taken away from her. A trained homicide investigator, she could only watch from the sidelines as her former teammates nabbed the bad guys. Then a new serial killer appeared, one who targeted the detectives themselves, and Helen found herself back in the action as she raced to put the pieces together and keep any more of her fellow cops from falling to the killer's gun.
Excerpt:
He should have logged out at a quarter to four, the standard time. And for most of the day, he’d hoped to be out and home on time. But a mundane morning spent re-interviewing people in a three-month old case had included one of those witnesses having moved on, causing Michaels to spend most of the afternoon tracing through various lease agreements, forwarding addresses and employers before he managed to track down the eighteen-year-old in question.
Upon finding his witness, zoned out after a night of bar hopping, it took every bit of effort and patience Michaels had to jolt the kid’s memory and awareness long enough to fill in the blanks from the previous interview.
All of which left Michaels clocking out a good three quarters of an hour later than his shift mandated, but anyone who’d worked on the force more than a couple of weeks understood that shift start times, and especially end times, were more a matter of wish fulfillment than cold, hard reality.
At this point, Detective Roy Michaels had less than an hour to live.
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Title: And the Devil Walks Away
Author: Kevin R. Doyle
Genre: Mystery
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press (Paperback and e-book) Books in Motion (audiobook)
Book Blurb
Helen Lipscomb seemingly has nowhere to go but down. Cashiered from the force, ostracized by most of her former acquaintances, and with no real connections left to the community, she's been getting by as a sort of unofficial investigator, doing piecework for various lawyers and bail bondsmen. Her former life as a homicide detective seems far behind her until a notorious serial killer, locked away and facing the death penalty, offers her the challenge of a lifetime. Not to prove his innocence, but to prove him guilty of even more murders than the authorities suspect, murders for which another convicted man, several states away, is taking credit.
Excerpt:
She knew the truth now, but had to move closer to see for herself. When she did so, Helen struggled not to look away from the body.
She’d been with this woman just a few short hours before, had sat and talked with her, even semi-argued with her. They’d made a deal, practically shook hands on it, but it looked as if the dead woman had tried to renege on that deal.
“Did he make you a better offer?” Helen asked the room. “And why did you even for a minute think he’d honor it?”
The final work had been done with either hands or some sort of strap, the bulging eyes and distended tongue showed that, but there had been a fight here, for sure. The woman’s waist was a mess of ugly splotches, black, blue and green. Scratches ran across the face and one arm rested at such an angle as to suggest a break. Even now, only a few hours into the process, the eyes, though filmed over, told a story of struggle, fear, and ultimately, surrender to the inevitable.
Okay, then. Not the intended person she’d come here to question.
Clearly, Helen’s job had just become a whole lot more complicated.
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Title: The Anchor
Author: Kevin R. Doyle
Genre: Mystery
Publisher: Night to Dawn Magazine and Books
Book Blurb
Jen has toiled away in television news, just waiting for a big break. And at the same time she finally gets a shot at the promotion opportunity she’s waited years for, head anchor for the nightly newscast, an unseen, shadowy man is desperate for her to notice him. When messages and well wishes don’t do the trick, her mysterious admirer intends to do anything necessary to make Jen a success and snare her attention, even if it means attacking her fiancé and killing off her competition.
Excerpt:
“Package for you,” Aldiss said.
Jen looked down at the plain wrapped bundle lying on her desk.
“Jack do something to make up for?” her deskmate asked.
Jen puffed in exasperation and plopped into her chair.
“What hasn’t he done?” she replied.
Aldiss chuckled and bent over his computer screen.
“How long have you and I shared a desk?” she asked.
“A year or so, give or take,” Aldiss replied, looking up.
“Uh huh. And how long have I been seeing Jack?”
“That you’ve admitted to? Seems like running on a year.”
“Eleven months.”
“Close.” Her coworker turned away and went back to his work.
Jen tapped her fingers on her desk and stared at the bundle. It had a small card attached, but without raising the flap and reading it, it looked like some sort of generic message-type thing.
“And when’s the last time he’s sent me a gift at work?”
Aldiss grinned.
“What’s the package say?” he asked.
“You didn’t look?”
“Hey, bunky, I believe in privacy.”
“Some reporter you are.”
She glanced at the package again, noted that it had come from FedEx, and assumed Tammy had signed for it up at the front desk. Then she flipped the front flap on the little card open.
“Hmm.”
Aldiss glanced up from his work but didn’t say anything.
Jen snared some scissors out of her desk and cut the paper open.
“Obviously, somebody thinks my current diet’s unnecessary.”
He looked up again, his brows raised.
Jen held up a box of Russell Stover chocolates.
“Card not from him?”
Jen shook her head.
“Say who it’s from?”
She held the card up eye level.
“In appreciation of all your service to the community,” she recited.
“Doesn’t sound like a new lover.”
“I hope not. I’d like to think I’d know if I was seeing someone new.”
Aldiss furrowed his brow.
“You done any story lately that’s been big time?”
Jen half glared at him.
“Meaning?”
Aldiss spread his hands out in a placatory gesture.
“Hey, nothing personal. I’m just curious what they mean by service to the community.”
Jen glanced down at the card for a second before looking back up.
“Maybe it’s just a fancier way of saying ‘I like your work.’”
“Or maybe it’s just some creeper who’s got a thing for you. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time a hot news anchor had an admirer.”
Grinning, Jen picked a paper clip off her desk and flipped it at him.
“Far as that goes,” she snorted, “wouldn’t be the first time for me.”
Aldiss picked the clip up from where it had fallen on his desk and tossed it back her way.
“Just imagine if they end up giving you Karyn’s nighttime slot. They’ll be coming out of the woodwork.”
“Thanks,” Jen said. “I’m doing my best not to think of that.”
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Title The Litter
Author Kevin R. Doyle
Genre: Horror
Publisher: Night to Dawn Magazine and Books (Print and e-book) Books in Motion (audiobook)
Book Blurb
They kept to the shadows so no one would know they existed, and preyed on the nameless who no one would miss. Where did they come from, and who was protecting them? In a city that had seen every kind of savagery, they were something new, something more than murderous. And one woman who had thought she had lost everything there was to lose in life would soon find that nothing could possibly prepare her for what would come when she entered their world.
Excerpt:
A car came squealing around the corner, someone leaning out and throwing an empty bottle in the kid’s direction. He ducked, glass shattering on the wall behind him, and the car continued on its way, drunken curses floating on the night.
The kid stood still for a moment, face reddening and fists clenching. But he knew it wasn’t anything personal. The morons hadn’t been attacking him, just anyone small and defenseless who they happened to come upon.
He’d spent his whole life small and defenseless.
He cinched the zipper of the ski vest a little bit tighter, jerking the collar upright so that it would partially cover his ears, and headed off down the street.
He had no clue where he was heading, or when he would eat or sleep next, but he’d been on his own for years now and had come to learn the way of the streets. He figured nothing could come up that he hadn’t encountered before, and he managed to stuff way deep down into an obscure corner of his mind the longing memories of the warmth and comfort the shelter had offered the night before.
He was a survivor, always had been, and as he wandered down the nearly-deserted street, in the early morning hours of the Zone, he had no doubt that he would continue to survive.
And that was the last that anyone ever saw of him.
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