New Releases Coming Soon:
Influx and Oh Flux - A Corner Scribbler's Anthology. On Amazon and print June 15th, 2021!
WhoDunit - A Mystery Story Anthology. June 2021!
Tales From The Starport Lounge - A Starflight Anthology. July 1st, 2021!
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Book Excerpts:
Have you ever been unnerved by the shine of an animal’s eyes at night?
As we generally consider humanity to be the apex predator in most modern environs, it might be a creepy sight, but not something the average person worries about. Go on a stroll out into any considerable woodland, forest or mountain range, some place nature still calls the shots, and that fear ramps up real fast. It’s been my limited experience that the denizens of the Fae Wylds couldn’t give a rat’s ass about your perceived position on the food chain.
-from "A Pawn's Promotion" in Napkin Notes
David stared at the overgrowth ahead of us and squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. “So, what do we do now?”
“Now? I check the fence-line and see if we can slip over. From there, get inside, see if we can free anyone that is alive, and kill anything that isn’t.”
“How are we supposed to kill these things? Do you have a bunch of silver in the trunk?”
“No, the silver thing is bullshit. Like most monsters, vampires are stupid hard to kill. You've got to go Van Helsing on them, most of the time. There’s no such thing as overkill. A stake will do the trick, like in the movies. What the movies don't tell you, is it has to be a fire-hardened wood shaft. They also fail to mention it is stupid-hard to pierce the heart through a ribcage.” Laughing, I added, “I've dreamed before of what I could do with a Bic lighter, a pack of bamboo kabob skewers and an air cannon! Hell, I’d like to try it just to see the What-the-Fuck look on the face of the fang-banger I hit with it!”
“That’s it? We’re running in there with sticks and attitude?”
David clearly wasn’t feeling confident about our odds.
Good. Cockiness gets you killed.
But so does fear.
“I’m crazy, not stupid.”
-from "Nightfangs" in Children of the Corner
Underwire from her bra prodded her in the ribs as she instinctually rolled away from the equally painful daggers of sunlight coming through the window. She groaned and pushed the nest of hair that had plastered itself to her face. Blinking down at her bed—and it was her bed, she decided, in relief—she saw smears of lipstick and eyeshadow on her pillowcase. Slowly, she realized she was still wearing all of her clothes from last night’s opening. Well, almost all, she thought as she glanced down to find that she only had one shoe on and didn’t see the match anywhere.
“What the hell?”
That was when the unmistakable smell of bacon wafted into the room from somewhere downstairs. Kate had sworn off breakfast after seeing some nonsense on the television. So that begged the question, who else was in the house? She tried to remember how she’d gotten home last night, but everything felt all fuzzy. The smell of the bacon was at once delicious and stomach-churning.
Mae couldn’t see her phone or purse lying around. Just great, she thought with a frown. Readjusting her bra and smoothing out her clothes, she hopped on one foot to remove the lingering strappy shoe and carried it in-hand as the world’s least intimidating weapon as she crept downstairs. She saw a large men’s dress shirt and a pair of jeans draped over the back of her sofa as she passed through the living room. Peeking around the corner to the kitchen, the tension in her shoulders eased slightly as she saw Beau at the stove, managing the bacon, wearing a crumpled pair of khaki shorts and a navy-blue Nashville Fire Department t-shirt.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing in my kitchen, Beau Brady?”
He gave her an incredulous smirk and tilted the pan in her direction, which was full of cubed chunks of potato now. “I’d have thought it was obvious. I’m cooking breakfast.”
“I can see that,” she said as heat poured over her ears. “I meant what are you doing in my house—my kitchen!”
-from "Rekindled Embers" in Men in Uniform
“Ta-da!” Kirk said as he slid across my freshly mopped floor, sporting a T-shirt with a stick figure being pulled into a UFO and the words “Get in Loser! We're doing Butt Stuff!”
“Ew, gross,” I said as I read the text, crinkling my nose. Then I saw the grime he’d just smeared across my floor. “Kirkland Jameson, I’m going to put my boot in your ass—”
“Please. Your legs aren’t long enough to kick my ass,” he said before taking a generous bite out of a cherry Twizzler.
“Seriously though, you’re getting dirt all my floor. I just cleaned up whatever the hell that last bus full of idiots going to Amargosa had all over their shoes.”
He had the grace to look embarrassed about the mess, at least. Then he waved his hand about dismissively. “You're right. They are idiots! Anyone with any sense knows that group isn't going to get anywhere near the base. Best-case scenario, they make it to the border on Mercury Highway and get turned around.”
“More likely, they are going to get drunk or just plain hammered and have a dance party in the desert behind the Area 51 Alien Center,” I said, mulling it over. “Huh, that might actually be fun. I’ll call Lizzie and see if she’s seen any light or sound systems being brought out there.”
“Boorrring! Come on, Roxie. Think bigger!”
I frowned. “You can’t be taking this thing seriously. Kirk, it was a joke!”
“Roxie, it’s September 20! Thanks to that Facebook post there are more alien fanboys in the area than there probably is any other time of the year. Hell, the population of Rachel has probably quadrupled over the last twenty-four hours!”
“Rachel only has what? Fifty people living out there? Super impressive,” I teased. “Well, seeing as you’re obviously set on keeping me from my job, let me hear it. What harebrained scheme have you cooked up this time?”
-from "Balancing the Scales" in Storming Area 51
A book is a dream you hold in your hands.
—Neil Gaiman
