Sunday, January 27, 2013


Who loves to keep new material on their blog but often find it hard to write new articles?



I have written several articles and I will add many more as time permits. These articles can be copied and paste to your blog with ease. These articles can be found on my author page.

There are a few simple rules, and I decided to add a short instructional to help you accomplish this with little effort.

First step, go to my author page  where you can see my profile and the articles I have written. You can also see a list on the lower left hand side of this blog.  Click on any that you like, say this one
Second step, stroll down to the section about the author --me( JOHNNY RAY ), and look for the REPUBLISH BUTTON.
When you click on it, it will give you a code you need to copy.

Third step, go to your blog and make sure you are in the html mode used for inputting your post.

Fourth step, paste it to your post
Fifth step, click over to compose and you will see what you have in a final product.
Sixth step, simply publish and you are done.
After the first one you will see how simply this really is.
I hope to do a long series of these and you can pick and choose any time you wish. 
The reason for this procedure is to make sure all links and info is not altered, and this also makes it very easy for the blogger.

Monday, January 21, 2013





While Suzan Mercer’s father promised in his dying words the land he left her would bring her love, she never anticipated the events involved in the process. Now, could she balance her new love life with her hidden CIA commitment? Could she?



Johnny Ray

   After serving eight years in the army, Suzan Mercer returns from Afghanistan to Florida as a female war hero–her works as a CIA operative, of course, would always be hidden.

    She couldn’t believe her mother had used a power of attorney while she was gone to sell the land her father had left her. After learning her mother also has early onset Alzheimer's and claims to have been taken advantage of by Matt Harris, the billionaire developer involved, Suzan uses her military and CIA training to plot her revenge and to reacquire her land.

    Entering a world where high heels replace combat boots and deep red lipstick becomes more deadly than a colt 45, Suzan never anticipated the cost to reacquire her land would be losing her heart.

   Matt also learns his money and power cannot acquire the one asset he has always lacked in his life as he ventures into untested skies without a golden parachute to save him. Also, would the ghost of his playboy image come back to haunt him?

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

How to create the perfect hero
Author: Johnny Ray


One of the first places to start in writing a romance, or most novels, is with the hero. Okay, some may argue the heroine, but for now, and since this is my article, we will concentrate on the hero now, and the heroine in the next article.

Most readers want a hero they can fall in love with, but to make it interesting he has to have some flaws. To star, let us analyze the obvious physical traits. Is he tall, or short? Fat, or with an extremely hot body? If the author wants to sell books, the choice is easy on these—usually. Then you have some selections that are not so critical such as eyes that are blue or brown. But even here, the writer needs to make the hero as unique as possible.

After going through the complete list of describing his appearance, the hard work begins. The inner being, the emotions of the hero needs to be understood. And he doesn't have to be the perfect gentleman, or any kind of unrealistic fake character. But he still has to be likable and realistic. While he can be tough and hard, he needs to be what is often referred to as redeemable.

I am going to use a recent novel of mine to use as an example. In HEROS AND LOVERS my hero is Thomas (Tommy) Conseco. Why did I select this name? Thomas gives a feeling of formality which is very prevalent in the modeling world. Tommy gives an impression of a friendly, over all good guy. And Conseco, which is the name everyone calls him, is in keeping with most famous people, and owners of large companies, etc. The name gives an immediate indication of the complexities of this hero.

Tommy is tall, and has a great body, which would be in keeping with a guy you would expect to own one of the top modeling agencies in the world. From an outward appearance, he has everything most girls would fall in love with. However, he has to have flaws—right?

To make it to the top, he has to be determined and almost ruthless, at times. Here is where the redeemable part comes in. And it is also where the heroine has to be a match for him. And not only that, she has to be the one to, in fact, rescue him from a life that is full of emptiness, that only he knows.

To make the readers love this hero, they have to understand his internal conflict. At the same time, the author has to make him complex enough to keep the story exciting and the plot complicated to the point the reader is guessing how this will every work out.

For me, unless the hero is fully established before the novel is started the story will wonder and die a miserable death. In fact, the more obstacles you can create, the better the story will be as you develop it. The hero has to be fully analyzed and open for all to understand who he is.

I hope everyone has a chance to read my latest novel, MODELS AND LOVERS. Your opinions are always welcome on my blog located at

Article Source:

About the Author

Johnny Ray is a full time, Award Winning Novelist and blogger Be sure to check out his bio and novels on Amazon

Friday, January 04, 2013




Chapter 1
Victoria recognized the expected incoming call immediately upon opening her phone and began to yell, “I don’t think this is safe!”
“It’s not your job to think.” The English overshadowed with a deep Russian accent was barely recognizable.
She slowed her pace along the walkway heading to the beach, knowing one of the Russian operatives must have called to simply let her know that she was being watched. “What happens if I don’t make the drop?” she asked in English to challenge her caller.
He converted to Russian. “I don’t think you really want to know.”
After the connection died, she dropped the phone back into her bag, and forced herself to keep walking. Keenly aware of the presence of both the American and Russian operatives nearby, Victoria stopped for a brief moment at the end of the wooden walkway leading to the beach in order to study the pounding surf caused by a tropical storm off the coast of Jacksonville, Florida. While both governments thought she worked exclusively for them, and not the other side, the Pack, an international crime syndicate owned her. She could almost sense a sharpshooter focusing the cross hairs of a sniper’s scope on her head.
No, she didn’t see any red dots−yet, but she had been working for both sides too long. She trusted neither one of them to save her from the Pack. While the Americans and the Russians played games, the Pack concentrated on their plan to destroy America and place the blame on Russia later. Being betrayed by both, she felt like she had no way out. She had to think of a plan, and had to do it now.
As her right hand fought with the wind for control of the heavy surfboard and her left hand struggled with her beach bag, she stepped off the wooden walkway onto the sand. She forced herself to relax, and look normal. She knew they had the technology to zoom in on her face and hands to monitor every inch of her movements. Any moment could be her last. She forced herself to concentrate. The instructions given to her by the Russians were simple: she must drop and cover the canister containing the flash drive with sand after she completed five steps forward and five to the right. Damn, she wanted to glance around, but she knew better.
The cool, yet gritty sand under her feet squished as she counted the steps. She stopped on the fifth, and turned to her right. Without moving her head to the side, she strained to study the skyline of the condos behind her as hard as she could out of the corner of her eye. While she saw nothing, she knew someone, and perhaps even both the Americans, and the Russians, were on top of one of the condos, and monitoring her moves. She wished she knew exactly where the bastards were lurking. If given the chance to escape, she knew she might have no choice but to take it.
Victoria couldn’t turn back now, as her feet continued to march in the sand and she counted off the last five steps. Her instincts told her the operation wasn’t going as planned. The storm in the Atlantic whistled loud in her ears, making any further contact impossible. She worried about the time when the Russian operative finds the canister, and the transfer is completed, that her future services might be considered unnecessary, and even her very existence considered a liability. An icy shiver racing up her spine suddenly forced her to have further second thoughts about making the drop. She leaned over to adjust her beach bag, letting the board hide her hand reaching into her bag to find the small canister. She studied the canister to examine the seal one more time before holding it high enough to make sure her monitors saw it.
 It was now the moment of truth. Ohmigod! She finally decided to abort the scheduled drop, and placed the canister back in her bag while it was still hidden behind her board. She quickly stood and kicked her feet in the sand, attempting to convince those monitoring her that she had, in fact, completed the drop. She hoped that both the Americans and the Russians thought she was covering the canister, which was such a small sand-colored plastic container that was designed to keep out the water and salt. As she remembered loading the flash drive earlier with the data, her anxiety started growing. Damn! If they knew the truth, would they shoot me on the spot? Still . . . she heard no shots ringing out. They must have assumed she completed her drop. Good. This will buy me some time.
After turning toward the water, she walked quickly, and hoped to make it closer to the crowd on the beach who were watching the surfers. She continued to feel the increasing force of the violent waves which were crashing against the shoreline, and producing a salt-filled spray mixed with sand. With the storm out in the Atlantic raging, the high winds kept slapping her face. Despite all of these uncomfortable conditions, this was also perversely why the surfers were here. It was during tropical storms like this that the waves in Jacksonville attracted the serious surfers. As the high gust of winds repeatedly tried to tear the board away from her, the savagery of the storm scared her, but not nearly as much as the terror behind her. She had to think.
Finding a spot next to the crowd of sand sharks, she dropped her board and bag and prepared to chillax for a while. She felt safer now that she was closer to them, and especially with the flash drive containing the stolen data still in her bag. She knew if they were going to shoot her, she would be dead by now. She breathed easier for the moment as she reached into her bag, removed her towel, and spread it openly on the beach.
A tall, lean girl in a thong bikini glanced at her and her board. “You’re not going out in this, are you?” she yelled in a rough voice over the sound of the surf.
Victoria smiled, and pointed out to the waves. “That’s why I came.”
“Good luck. The waves are wicked today. It’s much more fun to be a groupie and just enjoy watching the guys.” Her slim legs, which were covered in tattoos, stretched out on a large beach towel. Victoria suddenly realized the reason for the white-framed sunglasses this tattooed girl wore. The sunglasses were not needed for any sun glare protection, since the sun was hidden behind massive clouds. However, the wind which kept hurling torturous sand and salt at the crowd made the sunglasses indispensable in focusing on the guys surfing. She quickly found her glasses in her bag and put them on so that she could give her eyes some relief. 
After being able to see better, Victoria focused on the guys working the waves, and had to agree with the other woman. Even from the long distance to the beach they looked great. As she turned toward this girl with a small ass, but huge boobs, she shouted back, “I’m not a great surfer, but I think this is the best way to learn.”
“My hat’s off to you girl!” The wind roared so loud that the girl’s shouting could barely be heard.
“Look!” the girl on the far side yelled.
A lone surfer in the water sprang into action, and started working hard to get on top of the wave. As she strained to see him catch the wave, a new wind gust suddenly hit Victoria, and blurred her vision with mist and sand.
“He’s up!” the first girl squealed as she jumped to her feet.
As Victoria’s vision cleared, she watched this guy who began working the curl by cutting back and forth, and thus preventing anyone else from frigging his wave. She witnessed the violent crashing surf being controlled by a master who demonstrated his ability to not only stay up on top but obviously wanting to drain it for all it was worth, and even begging for more. From the squeals Victoria heard coming from the other girls, she knew that his muscular body dominated their interest. For Victoria, his performance penetrated her soul, and recorded a dream-like fantasy that was much more powerful than she could have ever imagined. It rendered her into a trance where the world and all of its problems completely vanished. “Wow!” Victoria finally managed to whisper.
After he finished the ride and splashed his way out and onto the shore, he grabbed his board and ran to his towel. Several of the land sharks brought their hands together for him. While the sound of the wind continued to bellow too loud for any applause to be heard, he did give them a quick hand wave and a big smile which was full of brilliant teeth.
As Victoria studied the water dripping down his long, but curly, blond strands of hair that hung shoulder length, she watched him reach for his phone, and stare at it, as if checking his messages for a moment. After he uncapped a bottle of water, he took a long drink before heading back out to the surf. On his way he quickly waved at the girls, as if to politely acknowledge their praise. But Victoria understood, as he glanced back out at the waves, that his mind was consumed with surfing right now, and nothing else.
The girl next to Victoria yelled at her over the wind, “I don’t know who he is, but he’s da kine.”
“I’ll agree. He looks . . . delicious.”
The girl smiled, and glanced back at her sideways. “So . . . are you going in after him?”
“Let’s just say that if he wants to give lessons, I’m available.” The brief chatting took her mind off her fears. She felt like she would be safe for a while, since the operative would not retrieve the canister until after everyone had left the beach area. “I think I’ll take a small walk first, and get my nerve up before I tackle these waves.” With the container still hidden in her hand, she quickly walked down the beach a hundred yards, or so. She soon stopped in front of a large piece of driftwood stranded on the beach. This would have to do. She walked over to it, and turned her back toward the beach before counting off the steps. After turning around to face the ocean, she dropped the container. A quick kick of sand covered it. The high winds would cover both her tracks, and the canister, as well, within minutes.
   Now she had to think. She had to plan a way to escape from her monitors before it was too late.