Glit-er-ary

Don’t you just love it when WordPress goes all Christmassy and falling snowflakes appear across the page.

Eeek, can’t believe how long it’s been since I posted! And I’ve published another novel since then too. Failing Flynn Matthews is available on Amazon now and only 99p! It’s “totally addictive reading” and apparently an “‘Effin’ awesome book!!! This is every bit as gripping, enthralling and at times frustrating as the first book.
You won’t want to put it down until you get to the end.” Thank you dear reader 🙂 and thanks to all the other 5 star reviewers too for Ordering Flynn Matthews and Failing Flynn Matthews!

I’m in the middle of formatting Working Flynn Matthews so you never know it might be published before Christmas. Move over Ellie, there’s a new girl in town.

A short story of mine, The Stuff of Fairytales, has been published in Bridge House Publishing‘s anthology, Glit-er-ary and is available in book and kindle form. There’s a wonderful variety of stories, some sad, some funny and some glittery 😉

I love the cover of the Anthology.

Click on cover to take you to Amazon

A little teaser from The Stuff of Fairytales:

I’ve been paid a mighty sum to kill her. It would cost the villagers nothing to do it themselves but they are simple god-fearing folk who don’t want her blood staining their hands…darkening their souls. Still I’m not complaining as their fear gives me work.

I collect her from the gaol, shackled at the ankles and wrists and wrapped in an oversized cloak. People never cease to surprise me. They want her dead but still they give her protection against the winter cold. A tiny slip of a thing, possibly no more than seventeen winters old, she is easy to bundle in the back of my cart. I make sure her chains are secure so there’s no means of escape. She doesn’t struggle. How this girl evokes such fear astonishes me. True her kind exist but I refuse to believe that she could tear me to pieces and rip out my heart – that is the stuff of fairytales.

It’s usual to provide some proof of death, the body for instance but not this time. Not one single drop of her crimson blood is to return to the village. I’m an honourable man so I’ll do as they ask. I will earn the bag of gold that’s stowed away in my cart.

As I drive the horse along the track it clears of people, dust flying up as they hurry towards the safety of their homes. Doors bang shut and the scraping and rasping of furniture being pushed up against them echoes out. As we round the corner and disappear from view a breath-like breeze ruffles my hair as if the villagers sigh in collective relief.

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