Free Reads Update

I have at last properly formatted two of my free reads for distribution on Smashwords. This should make it easier for those of you who prefer reading on mobile devices. As of right now you can pick up:

Fiends in Low Places

 Originally available from Torquere Press for the Charity Sip Blitz.

Simon Murphy, psychic and former thief is trying to rekindle the romance between himself and his FBI beau, Gabriel. The two of them have gone from being on opposite sides of the law, to the same side, to fighting over cases. At each step they've been drawn closer together and thrown apart over their constant fighting. Can a pizza date fix this mess? Or will the vampire mobsters after Simon ruin any chance Simon has of being with the man he really loves?

Station House Six

Originally a serial here on the blog, it can still be found in that format if you so desire to read it that way.

Wayland, vampire hunter and Night Shift officer, is forced to take on something he never wanted; a partner. With Inspector Mulhaney breathing down his neck, a rotating shift of captains because no one really wants to run a station house full of pale, creepy fellows with garlic breath, Wayland is going to have to find a way to get along with his new partner--or at the very least, not get the guy killed.






I may add some others, not decisions have been made yet. Happy reading!

The Night Shift

It's the Night Shift cover art folks! Look, shiny! Finally got a man in a scarf... I hope this is enough of a teaser for you folks at the moment, but in case it's not, here's an actual teaser:

Enjoy!

 The Night Shift

        Sharp, sweet and smoky tendrils of scent followed us. The stone floor beneath my feet was getting slick as Simon bled on it -- he ran just in front of me. Behind us the howls were starting. Throaty, piercing sounds that made your hair stand on end and burned into your memory as surely as that time you walked in on your Great-Aunt Shirley in the bathtub.

          Simon -- my partner in this case and an unhealthily good looking young man several years my junior -- had been injured during what had been supposed to be a simple reconnaissance trip. The creatures behind us were ghouls; a nest of them had gotten together in a section of the Old City, and we’d been trying to make a count before taking affirmative action.

            I wanted to set fire to the whole damn complex, but somebody overruled me.

            “I see the stairs!” Simon shouted over his shoulder.

            I looked up, spotting the sliver of sunlight that was our escape hatch. The ghouls wouldn’t be able to follow us out into the light, thank God.

            After a moment’s thought, I caught up to Simon and slung him over my shoulder with a grunt. “You see one, shoot.”

            “Yes, sir.” He wasn’t particularly surprised to be manhandled, I’d done it before -- not to say the boy was injury prone but… He rested the butt of his shotgun against my shoulder, and I went for the stairs. The howls were getting closer as I took the first step, and Simon fired a warning shot that sent a sharp blow to my shoulder as I absorbed the recoil. I ignored it for the time being and kept going.

            At the top of the stairs I set him down, shoving him through the open doorway and turned on the crowd of ghouls that had paused just out of reach of the sunlight. They were ugly bastards. Unlike zombies, ghouls didn’t rot after they dug themselves out of the ground -- they dried. It was particularly unattractive. Several of them had huge distended stomachs to go with the long claws and pointed teeth. They’d fed recently.

            “Hi guys.” I smiled and pulled the grenade I’d been saving out of my pocket. “Bye guys.” I jerked the ring out and tossed the grenade amongst them, throwing myself out the door, slamming it shut and running. “Fire in the hole!”

            Simon took off and the explosion went off about five seconds later, blasting bits of building, and ghoul, into the air. Simon and I continued our retreat to the van, climbing in and shutting the door. The reinforced panels would keep off the worst of it, though I could hear the tinging as bits of stone and wood and bone struck the exterior.

            “That was fucking insane!” Simon snapped, lounging against the wall of the van and panting. “You’re nuts.”

            “Aw, it wasn’t as bad as the siren in Humbolt Park and you know it.”

            “One of these days, Adder, you’re going to get me killed.”

“Not today.” I took a closer look at his injury, a nasty gash along his side. “We’re heading to the hospital. Bronson, start her up.”

            The slender, salt and pepper redhead started up the van without further prompting and took off fast enough to leave tire behind on the concrete. “You blew something up again,” he complained.

            “No choice.” Well, there’d been a choice, but I’d liked mine.

            “How bad is it?”

            I looked at Simon, noting he had passed out. “He’ll be okay, just hurry.”

            Simon wasn’t particularly stalwart about pain, it seemed he’d pass out at the drop of the hat -- if you didn’t know why. Simon had been diagnosed with narcolepsy, because what was really wrong with him was too unbelievable for the medical community.

            “Is he out?”

            “Like a light.” I maintained pressure on the wound. “I’m fine too, thanks for asking.”

            “I assumed you were, because you weren’t complaining.” He took a sharp turn that knocked me into the wall. “Now hush.”

            Bronson wasn’t technically my superior; we were basically equals, but I still tended to do as he said. For one, I was almost certain that if I pissed him off he’d curse me. Bronson was, after all, a witch.

            I refrained from mouthing off and concentrated on keeping Simon from bleeding to death. All in all, not a bad day of training. 

 

Sleeping on the Job

For fans of Fiends in Low Places, wondering where the hell the rest of that story is, when you're going to get it, etc. I've decided to break the ice a bit. The novel, which is in progress at the moment, is tentatively titled Sleeping on the Job. 

Here's a teaser, enjoy!

 Sleeping on the Job

I first met Gabriel Sheppard when I was a punk kid still boosting jewelry stores to piss off my father. We had an unconventional first meeting, I’ll grant you that. Far be it from me to ever be conventional. It was the first time I ever woke up handcuffed to a couch. I was seventeen-years-old, and I’d just broken the law.

            “You know there’s a kid asleep, handcuffed, on your couch—to your couch? Right?”

            “My fine deductive powers did deduce that fact, yes.”

            “Why is there a sleeping kid handcuffed to your couch?”

            “Remember the job at Margot’s?”

            “Yeah.”

            “That’s our thief.”

            “Him?”

            “Yup.”

            “Why is he asleep?”

            “He has narcolepsy.”

            “Really?”

            “Really really.”

            I took a deep breath, eyes still closed. The handcuff was cold against my left wrist, and the arm was a bit stiff from the angle it was being held at—as the metal arm of the couch was a bit higher than my head. I licked my lips. They’d taken my lock-picks. The empty feeling along my leg, and the sticky residue from the tape sticking to the fabric of my shirt just under my arm told me that. I could still feel the cold of a pin against my scalp though.

            I cracked open an eye to take a look at the two guys talking. One was on the tall side, slender and wearing a cheap black suit—hair cut by a barber just down the street from his house I’d bet. His watch was new;his shoes were wearing thin but well taken care of. The dust on his shoes and the water on the cuff of his pants—added to the slight odor of garbage around him meant he was Agent number one.

            The other man was shorter, stockier and dressed better. He looked like his nose had been broken a couple times. I got the feeling he wasn’t much of a lady’s man. By the thickness of his right wrist against his left I’d call him a chronic masturbator. Gross. His lips were too thin.

            The first man was the sort of guy a girl would coo over. He had a bit of a lost puppy air, and his eyes were just the right shade of blue. Mussed hair and the hint of stubble on his chin gave a touch of devil-may-care and his job made him exciting, but safe. The perfect boyfriend I bet. He and the other one weren’t friends, but one probably invited two to social gatherings because that was just the kind of guy he was.

            “Well, in any case, Spinelli wants a word with you.”

            “All right, I’ll be there in five minutes.”

            The masturbator left the room and the puppy turned to look at me. “I know you’re awake, kid.”

            I opened my eyes and gathered myself into a sitting position on the incredibly uncomfortable grey upholstered couch. “Good morning…” I glanced at the name placard. “Agent Sheppard.”Really? That made the dog analogy more apt. “Gabriel Sheppard?”

            “And you are Simon Murphy.”

            “You got a fetish I don’t know about Agent Sheppard? Cause, handcuffing me to your couch…that’s kind of kinky.”

            He frowned, “You need to be less smart ass and more cooperative. Where are the jewels?”

            “What do I get if I tell you?”

            “A pat on the head.”

            “Come on Agent, throw me a bone here.”

            He scowled. “Where are the jewels?”

            “I don’t do well in high stress environments. They trigger the narcolepsy.”

            “You robbed four jewelry stores—you can survive me asking you a few questions.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

            “So, what? Sit, stay, and you’ll give me a treat if I behave?”

            “I know you think you’re funny.”

            “But?”

            “But I have a gun.” He raised an eyebrow, and headed out of the office, shutting the door behind him. At least there were no glass walls or anything. That meant I had plenty of alone time. I pulled the pick from my hair and snapped open the cuffs in a flash.

            The single door led out to the bull pen, no help there. The desk held a phone, a computer and papers. The bookshelf next to the desk looked more sentimental, although the law books looked like they’d never been touched. A window had a small ledge, and a long way down.

            I took another deep breath, and opted for the phone.

The Hanged Man's Ghost

Long overdue, but here's the cover art for The Hanged Man's Ghost, scheduled for release the second week of February!

The same day it comes out I'll have a side story here on the blog that ties into some of the things that happen in this book. I've heard from a few people wondering when/where there would be more information/stories about the characters from Fiends in Low Places and Poisoned Spirits, well folks, this would be the start of the series that the stories spun off from.

The Hanged Man's Ghost marks the first of three books (Should be three) from the POV of Fynn Adder, who you met in Fiends in Low Places briefly. I'm also working on Sleeping on the Job, which will be from Simon's POV and go into greater depth with his background, he and Gabriel's relationship and all those little juicy bits glazed over in Fiends.

For those of you who've read Poisoned, keep your eyes open, because there is at least one character making a return to the page in this one, and you'll be sure to see Ian take the stage in this series. I'm working on that book too, which has no title just now, but will go into Ian's activities before the events of Poisoned.

I've other ideas I'm playing with as well, and there's still the sequel to The Grave Watchers muddling around.

Once I get the cover/schedule for my other book, I'll post about it, but for now I shall keep you guessing.