Project Updates

I was looking at my to-do list and realized I have a lot going on.

Saint of Sinners is now 50,000 words. I’m hoping to have the first draft done by July 1.

Taming the Darkness is on my Samhain editor’s (virtual) desk.

Emma and the Air Pirates is now at my (hired) editor. I also put in a cover request with an artist. I’m planning to release the book by August 1.

Not My Apocalypse will be back from all my beta readers in the next few days, and then I get to start on editing.

That’s four books in various stages, plus Erik’s Tale waiting in the wings. I like having this much going on. It makes me feel productive.

Six Sentence Sunday, Apr 8 (Saint of Sinners)

Happy Easter! Here’s some more Alex for you:

“There are things I can’t talk about.”

“Why not? Don’t you trust me?”

She didn’t get it, and how could she? Hayley had parents that loved her, a brother that loved her. She’d never been beaten, she hadn’t been isolated from the world, she hadn’t been born to destroy the world, and most of all, she was human.

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Six Sentence Sunday, April 1 (Saint of Sinners)

Animus leapt from her sheath as I crossed the distance between us. The man didn’t even have time to bow his head. I ran Animus through his shoulder and her singing ran in counterpoint to his screams. I slammed my foot into his stomach, cutting off the scream, and pushed him to the floor. “You murdered a cat,” I said as I looked down at him. “In my name.”

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Six Sentence Sunday, Mar 25 (Not My Apocalypse)

And there it was, the chariot of the sun, coming at us along the curve of the horizon. Behind it was the huge black wolf Skoll. When I say huge I mean huge, like I underestimated how big he was.

This thing was like, the size of a motherfucking elephant. And me, Stefan and Colin could still barely lift the damn spears we were supposed to fight him off with. Shit.

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Six Sentence Sunday, Mar 18 (Not My Apocalypse)

The other two couldn’t stop laughing and I told them to shut up because they were making the horses nervous. I got right back up on the horse (there’s a metaphor about that, isn’t there?) and this time I was a little more careful. There wasn’t anything to hold onto except the fiery mane so I grabbed that and hoped it wasn’t going to piss the horse off. He seemed okay with it.

So now I was sitting on a sun horse and I wasn’t sure what to do next. “Um, giddyup?” I said.

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