Shaun Dryden's Writing Portfolio

When battle-hardened SBS Sergeant Major Brad Maddison hitches a ride home from Cyprus aboard an RAF Atlas C1, he expects nothing more than a quiet return to civilian life. But as he watches a spectacular meteor shower over the Mediterranean, fate has other plans.

Days after his discharge, Brad rescues Dr Teresa Halcroft, Britain’s leading expert in astrobiology, from a violent assault in West London. Their meeting seems like more than a coincidence, especially when news breaks of a meteorite crash in Glencoe, unleashing a deadly, fast-spreading virus that wipes out everyone except one survivor: Robbie McAllister, a Highlander with a mysterious immunity.

As civilisation teeters on the brink of collapse, Brad and Teresa head north into danger, racing to uncover the truth. What connects the global meteorite strikes, a shadowy organisation, the soldier, the survivor, and possibly even extraterrestrials? Is this the end of humanity, or just the beginning of something far more terrifying?

This gripping sci-fi thriller is perfect for fans of military science fiction, high-stakes thrillers, ufology and doomsday scenarios.

Inspired by the works of Lee Child, Dean Koontz, Chris Ryan, and the hit documentary series Ancient Aliens.

Sometimes the only thing that can save you is a sarcastic Angel disguised as a dog…

When Jack Brown’s wife dies suddenly in a tragic car accident, his world falls apart. Once a proud father, a devoted husband, and a man who loved his job, Jack now finds himself jobless, rudderless, and drowning in grief. With his daughter living halfway around the world in Australia, and each day blurred by cheap booze, whisky, weed, and long, sleepless nights. Jack’s life is spiralling fast, and rock bottom is calling.

Then, after learning of the death of his oldest friend, Jack decides he’s had enough. He walks to a remote cliff edge, ready to end it all convinced there’s no one left who cares. But just as he’s about to take the final step, a voice interrupts him.

"Oi Jack, please don’t do it."

To his right stands a small, scruffy white terrier, who’s not only talking, but full of opinions. Sarcastic, snarky, and strangely wise, the dog introduces himself as a trainee angel on his very first assignment to save Jack’s sorry backside.

What follows is a heart-warming, hilarious, and sometimes dark journey as Jack and his unlikely companion navigate grief, friendship, and redemption, one day and mishap at a time. Together, the unlikely pair set off on a bizarre and beautiful road trip through the Scottish wilderness, camping, arguing, healing, and laughing in equal measure. Along the way, Jack finds that redemption might not lie in forgetting the past, but in rediscovering joy, friendship, and the simple magic of a dog who refuses to give up on him.

Darkly funny, deeply touching, and delightfully absurd, Jack and an Angel called Trevor is a tale of second chances, and the most inappropriate angelic advice ever given.

Perfect for anyone who believes that healing can come from the most unexpected places, even in the form of a foul-mouthed, opinionated speaking dog.

When Professor Teresa Halcroft, brilliant academic and Brad Maddison’s partner, narrowly survives an attempt on her life. Then Brad’s closest friend, a former Royal Marine, is kidnapped and tortured for information he doesn’t have. It feels targeted. Personal.

Before Brad can make sense of it, the unthinkable happens: the Prime Minister’s estranged son is abducted and held to ransom.

Three violent acts. No obvious link.

Or so it seems.

Coincidently at the same time, under the direction of the secretive Major Ron Taylor, Brad assembles a hand-picked team of ex-special forces operators for a secret mission but now they are diverted pulling at threads that stretch from the quiet streets of Morpeth to the heat of Phuket, through Camden’s underbelly and on to the volcanic landscape of Lanzarote.

Their secret mission is bigger than terrorism. Bigger than politics.

Buried deep beneath Alaska’s Mount McKinley, whispered about in conspiracy circles as the Dark or Black Pyramid, lies talk of an underground alien base and technology far beyond human capability. Satellite blackouts. Classified airspace. Disappearances that were never explained.

Surely an attempt on Teresa’s life, the torture of an ex Royal Marine, the kidnapping of the Prime Minister’s son and a secret base in Alaska cannot be related.

I’m about to begin work on Book 4, another short novel in the same vein as Jack and an Angel Called Trevor. That said, the similarities end there.

Somewhere between the fourth pint and the bold claim that “music was better in our day,” the seed of my next book quietly took root. It wasn’t a grand literary epiphany delivered by candlelight and classical music. No, it arrived in the far more scholarly environment of a Friday night pub table surrounded by old mates, where the storytelling grows taller as the glasses get emptier.

The subject of our debate, which had clearly been researched over many years of similar evenings, was the glorious chaos of growing up in the 1960s and 70s. Those were the days when entertainment required actual effort. If you wanted music, you saved up for records. If you wanted to see your friends, you physically walked outside and knocked on their door like a civilised human being. And if you fancied a girl, well, you had to summon courage rather than simply pressing a heart emoji.

Looking back now, the whole era feels wonderfully ridiculous. The clothes alone deserve their own chapter. Trousers with flares so wide they could double as emergency parachutes. Haircuts that required either a hedge trimmer or a brave mother with kitchen scissors. And the music! From rock to glam to the eventual explosion of punk, which arrived like a rebellious cousin who’d had too much coffee.

Life back then was simpler, though not necessarily easier. We learned patience because things didn’t happen instantly. You waited for things, saved for things, and appreciated them when they finally arrived. Respect was expected, community meant something, and boredom often led to adventures rather than scrolling.

The idea behind this book is simple: preserve the memories before they disappear. It’s a sort of light-hearted time capsule of everyday life from a generation that somehow survived questionable fashion choices and even more questionable haircuts.

If nothing else, today’s youngsters might read it and realise their grandparents were once dangerously cool. Or at least mildly interesting. And for the rest of us, it will be a chance to laugh, nod knowingly, and agree we really did grow up in the best of times.