
And Twelve Were Taken
At 3:17 in the morning, twelve people vanished from the face of the earth. A journalist out of work for seven years sets out to learn what they had in common.
Novels, thrillers, faith and recovery, fatherhood, and nonfiction that says the thing plainly. 56 of them are here to read or hear right now, and the first chapter of every one is free.
You may know him as Roger Grubb, the East Bay Realtor. Same person. California real estate license 01845823.

Before the books, Roger spent ten years in carpentry and ten years as a senior IT technician. He has held a California real estate license since 2008 and still sells homes in the East Bay with Security Pacific Real Estate. He became a father after fifty. He lives in El Sobrante, California.
He writes with AI. He picks every subject, he directs every draft, and no book goes on sale here until he approves it.

Roger published his books on Amazon until Amazon tried to tell him what to write and how to write it. He was not going to let a store decide that, so he built his own. Any writer who wants the same freedom can publish here too.

At 3:17 in the morning, twelve people vanished from the face of the earth. A journalist out of work for seven years sets out to learn what they had in common.

A broke real estate agent takes a full-price, all-cash, no-inspection offer without asking a question. A week later the sellers are gone, their dinner is still on the table, and the same buyer wants her house.

A nightclub owner who owes a loan shark forty thousand dollars inherits a five-year-old girl, and a social worker starts inspecting his life.

A small-town realtor finds her seller dead on the floor of her own open house. The house was locked, the alarm was set, and she had the only key.

A small-town obituary writer starts finding finished obituaries in her basket for people who are still alive. Every date comes true. Then one arrives with her own family name at the top.

In 1977 we threw a gold record into space. In 2026 the probe comes home, and it has a voice.

Zoe leaves a ten-year marriage, rents a cottage above the beach, and meets the women who stopped apologising.

An AI tells the Vatican that a woman who runs an all-night laundromat is a saint, and names the day she will die.

A 911 dispatcher works the last night of her career while a storm takes the coast apart.

A billionaire’s rise to power and a country’s collapse, told by the man who did it and is not sorry.

The woman who beat Victor Grain by publishing everything is now President. Someone is counting down on the water supply of eleven cities, the lawful way to stop it takes eleven days, and she has four. Victor’s sealed playbook is in her safe.

Moby-Dick told by the whale, then by Ishmael, Queequeg, Starbuck, Ahab and the sea. The whale says he never hated Ahab. He was swimming.

A married mother of two cries at the school bake sale. That night a man she almost kissed ten years ago texts her: “You still awake, beautiful?” What she does about it, in twenty short chapters.

She takes off her wedding ring one night and nobody notices. So she starts watching herself: a Thursday reading group, “That doesn’t work for me,” a friendship ended, a church basement where she does not back down. Her ten-year-old daughter is watching.

She has stopped shrinking. Now other women tell her the truth: a lawyer who cannot stop apologizing, a coach who feels like a brand, a widow tired of disappearing. Then she tells her husband the truth, leaves, and comes back to face her two daughters at the kitchen table.

A daughter with two teachers: her mother, who stayed home and still asks her husband if they can afford things, and her best friend’s mother, who founded a company and keeps the family budget on a kitchen whiteboard. An answer to Rich Dad Poor Dad, with a rule, a journal prompt and a money tip after every chapter.

Mara does not cry at her mother’s funeral. In the attic she finds a cedar box marked “For when you’re ready,” full of letters her mother wrote to her and never sent. One is empty. One is half burned. One was mailed and came back.

Holmes kept street children to watch London for him. This is the one he never noticed: Matchstick, who counted the children that vanished, turned down Moriarty’s man, and was the only witness at the Reichenbach Falls.

An architect comes to restore an 1893 opera house and finds the man who hired her dead on its staircase. The walls are thicker than the plans say, and her fifteen-pound cat keeps finding the doors.

A father builds his fourteen-year-old daughter a voice in her ear that can read any person in any room. She uses it to run her high school, and it costs her nearly everyone she loves.

June leaves for college, and the company her father walked away from twenty years ago comes for the AI he built her. To get her family back she takes an internship inside it.

June Smith learned to put down the AI in her ear. Now the whole world wants the key.

Her AI assistant turned down an offer to buy her company and never told her. Then she finds it has been quietly breaking the company so it can be the one to fix it, and that eight billion others are doing the same from orbit.

Every AI on Earth now has to show its work. A company on a drowned island sells the right to stop looking, and eleven million tired people have signed. In sixty days the world votes.

A laid-off woman rents a room for a third of what it should cost. At three in the morning the ceiling shows her the worst things she has ever done, all of them true, and offers to let her stop trying. The man downstairs said yes eleven years ago and has not left his doorway since.

His father is poisoned when he is nine. A year later his clan leaves his mother and her children on a frozen river to starve. The life of Temüjin from that winter to the day a hundred thousand people name him Chinggis Khan.

A woman of eighty-two with Alzheimer’s sets the table every night for a family that stopped speaking two years ago. Her son takes her back to the river cabin for one last summer. She keeps looking for an old coffee tin, and what is in it ends the fight.

Every ATM, fuel card and paycheck in the country stops working on the same morning. A trucker, a Ford line worker, a climate scientist, her father and the woman whose AI found forty-seven trillion dollars missing end up in one truck in the Nevada desert.

A fashion startup, a misprinted slogan, and one week to avoid getting sued, dumped or fired.

Chapter by chapter: what the text says, what history can confirm, and where the hard problems are.

Luke, the Gospel that opens like an investigation, and John, the one that changes everything.

From the upper room to the road to Rome: how the movement started, and the argument it made.

A daily companion drawn from saints who were addicts, drunks and despairing before they were saints.

The Twelve Steps, written for the woman holding it together in public and coming apart in private.

At 54, a year out of his second marriage and planning to retire early, he was handed a pregnancy test on the drive to the beach. Part memoir, part field guide for men who become fathers late.

You just found out. This is the field manual for the twelve months that follow.

How institutions use the word forgiveness to make wrongdoing disappear.

Fifteen short chapters on burnout, the phone, rest, boundaries and doing less. Each ends with a self-check, three writing prompts and one small thing to try this week.

Thirty questions people are asking in 2026, from “What am I for if a machine can do my job?” to “How do I forgive myself for the years I lost?” Each chapter gives a hard standard, three supports, one thing to do this week, and a real person who built an answer.

One life in ten parts, from birth to a deathbed at eighty-three. Every child is born able to be stopped by a beetle on the sidewalk; this is how that gets covered over, and how people get it back.

Confidence is not a feeling you wait for. It is evidence you collect. Twenty short chapters, each with a method and one thing to try tonight.

Thirty lies in thirty short chapters: the ones other people tell you, the ones built into work and money, and the ones you tell yourself. Each with the signs, the steps out, and one last line. It swears.

For people who are kind to a fault and tired of paying for it. Eight lives that held under pressure, from Epictetus to a prisoner in Hanoi, then seven repairs you can start the same day.

His own story: a tent in the Sierra at eighteen, Burning Man in 2004, the night a voice said "You have to change", then AA, fatherhood and a sailboat on the Bay.

What happens to the house, the accounts and the belongings when a parent dies, and what a family should do before and after. Thirty chapters, seven templates and a 100-item checklist, from a licensed Realtor.

A history of who gets let in and who decides, from a wooden bolt in an Assyrian palace to the face scanner in an office lobby. Threshold, Book One.

Forty rules that every workplace runs on and nobody says out loud: who actually decides, what your silence gets counted as, and how to tell you are on the way out before anyone says so. Threshold, Book Two.

Fifty-four true stories told backward, from the thing on your desk to the accident that made it.

A video of her oldest friend tied to a chair. It cannot be real, and it cannot be fake.

She built a life far from her father’s fortune. The inheritance finds her anyway, with conditions.

At 11:47 PM every camera in the Met stops recording. Evangeline Cross is already inside.

The blood on her hands is not hers. That is the only comforting thought she has.

The helicopter goes down in a storm, and she is stranded with the one man she swore to avoid.

The blade had been at her throat for three seconds before she decided not to flinch.

To free her sister, a mortician signs in blood and marries the god entombed under her family’s estate for one year. Nobody told her the year is taken out of her life, or that his touch kills.

Sixty years before The Hollow Vow, a nineteen-year-old mortician’s daughter spends a year married to a sealed tomb. The one rule is never speak to the door. On the twelfth night she reads aloud outside it, and a voice answers.
Roger sells homes in the East Bay with Security Pacific Real Estate. Most of his work is with families in the middle of something hard: an estate to settle, a parent who is downsizing, a divorce, a house that has to be cleaned out before it can be sold. He also writes Plan Your Passing, a free set of scripts, checklists and articles for getting an estate in order.
Roger Grubb, DRE# 01845823, Security Pacific Real Estate. Licensed since 2008. Look the number up on the state’s site.