Saturday, December 22, 2012

Merry Christmas

Well another year is almost over, and in the spirit of giving, here's a free Christmas gift in the form of a short story. Hope you enjoy it, and Merry Christmas one and all.

Jim Bloor stared out of the grotto window at the shoppers ambling past outside, probably spending far more than they could afford in the pinnacle of consumerism, otherwise known as Christmas.
                There was no way Jim was going to get himself into debt in order to buy some crap that the recipient probably didn’t want and didn’t need in the first place. No, he had far more important things on his mind.
                “Santa, are you listening?”
                Jim stared at the kid standing opposite him. He looked about seven years of age, the centre parting in his hair giving him a quite severe expression. “Ho, ho, ho,” Jim said, “and who have we here?” He glanced at the piece of paper stapled to the wall at his side that listed the kids in the order they were lined up outside the department store grotto. “Oh yes, Simon. And what do you want for Christmas young man?”
The boy stared with wide eyed wonder. “I’d like a...”
Jim stopped listening. He nodded in all the right places, but if the truth be told, he hated all these greedy little kids. When he was young, he was lucky to get a piece of fruit and a wooden toy. But then it wasn’t the kids fault as much as the parents for buying him everything he asked for. He glanced at the boys Mum and Dad standing in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear. They pulled out a camera to take a picture, but a six foot elf (six fucking foot. The store couldn’t even be bothered to get that right) pointed out a sign that said photos were not permitted as Santa’s helper was the only one allowed to take pictures, which they could then purchase for five pounds. That was on top of the five pounds they paid for the honour of their bundle of joy meeting Santa and receiving some plastic piece of crap made in China for a few pennies.
Their smiles faded for a moment, but then the father begrudgingly pulled out his wallet.
Once the photograph had been taken, Jim reached into the blue sack and pulled out a gift that he passed to the kid. “Now be a good boy, Robin—”
The kid frowned. “Simon, my name’s Simon.” He glanced back at his parents, lower lip trembling petulantly. They stared back at Jim as though he had just murdered their little one.
“Ho, ho ...” fucking “ho. Of course it is. Simon. Santa makes a mistake now and again, you know the world’s a big place and there are a lot of kids’ names to remember.” He smiled at the parents in the hope that they would understand.
The kid’s father scowled. “Money we’re paying you think he’d do the job properly,” he grumbled to his wife.
The kid tore the paper off the gift, threw the wrapping on the floor and pulled his nose up at the cheap action figure that he held up between two fingers.
An itch started beneath Jim’s fake beard and the extra padding he was wearing made him feel hot and sweaty where it pressed against his stomach. If it wasn’t for the money he wouldn’t be doing this job. And the more he thought about it, the more he realised the money didn’t cover the grief he had to endure. A trickle of sweat rolled from underneath his Santa hat and he wiped it away on his sleeve. As he brought his arm back down, his sleeve snagged the fake beard and pulled it down.
The kid stared at him for a moment, and then his lower lip started quivering. Next second he started bawling his eyes out.
“Outrageous,” the father said. “I want to see the manager.”
“Come here, Simon,” the mother added, holding her arms out to comfort her son.
“Right, time to move along,” the six foot elf said, ushering the family out. The green tights accentuated his skinny legs and knobbly knees. He looked like a string bean. The kid’s dad glanced back and gave Jim a final withering glare as though it was his fault. Jesus, he was only doing his job. What did they expect for five pounds?
“He had to find out one day,” Jim shouted after them. He then sat back and snorted loudly. He wished to God that his problems could be so minor.
A few minutes later the manager stormed into the grotto. His face was as red as Jim’s coat. “I’ve just had my ear chewed by an angry parent. You’re fired. Get your things. Security will escort you from the building.”
“You can’t do that,” Jim said. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You spoiled a kid’s dreams. Probably scarred him for life. I think that’s enough.”
“But I need this job.”
“You should have thought about that before.”
“Before what?” Jim raised his hands in a questioning manner. “I didn’t do jack shit. It was one kid with some stuck up parents making a fuss about nothing.”
“That’s all it takes. Pack your stuff.”
Jim stood up and shook his head. “But I need this job for my kid.”
The manager shrugged. “I’m sorry. I know what you’re going through, but you’ve brought this on yourself.”
“You haven’t got a clue what I’m going through,” Jim spat, but he knew it was useless arguing further. Department store Santa’s were two a penny and stupid as it seemed, people would be queuing up to take his place.
“Well you can shove your job up your ass,” he said as he stormed away, tugging the beard off and flinging it to the ground. He thundered past the crowd of people waiting outside. “And what are you looking at?” he shouted. “Santa has left the building.”
Mum’s and Dad’s shielded their kids and tutted loudly. He heard murmurings of ‘disgraceful’ and ‘shouldn’t be allowed’ as kids started bawling.
Jim quickly changed into his own clothes and then exited the store. Outside he stared at the twinkling lights that adorned the street and the shop windows. He resented the fact that he was probably paying for them through his taxes when he could hardly afford to pay the bills for his council flat. If his life was a book, then it was a shitty read.
He stomped along the pavement, muttering underneath his breath at the unfairness of it all. Christmas. It was a crap celebration anyway. How could any responsible parent fob their kids off with such lies? They were only setting them up for heartache when they found out the truth. And they were instilling in their kids the belief that it was alright to lie. That’s it was okay to believe a fat old bastard broke into their house each year and left presents. The reality was that if anyone broke in, it would be to take, not to give. Christmas was a joke, but he wasn’t laughing. It was no wonder the world was in such a mess. Parents lied about so many things. The tooth fairy, Santa Claus, compatible organ donors. A tear rolled down his cheek. He pictured his daughter, Rebecca, still believing that a heart would be found in time.
Jim was doing his best to help, but it wasn’t easy.
He spotted the family up ahead that had just resulted in him being sacked from his job. They were standing on the corner of the street. The father was talking on his mobile phone. Anger coursed through Jim’s veins as he watched them. After the father put his phone away, he kissed his wife on the cheek, looked at the watch on his wrist and said something to her before nodding and walking away.
Jim followed him at a discreet distance. The man walked past the shops and entered the multi-storey car park at the end of the road. He walked through the doorway and started up the stairs. Jim jogged after him, the smell of piss tainting the air. Half way up, he caught up to the man and without hesitating, he pulled the extendable baton from his coat pocket and whacked the man over the head as hard as he could. The resultant shock coursed through his arm and he watched as the man collapsed and tumbled back down the stairs. Jim jogged after him and crouched beside the fallen man and struck his head again for good measure. Then he checked he was still breathing. Satisfied that he was alive, he searched the man’s body for his wallet and took out a credit card. He then pulled out a prefilled organ donor card and pen from his own pocket and copied the man’s signature as close as possible onto the card and then put both cards back in the man’s wallet before exiting the building and heading for a callbox where he rang for an ambulance.
He knew that if the man wasn’t registered on the organ donor registry they might not take much notice of the card, but if it was pointed out to the family that he was carrying the card, then hopefully they would acquiesce with his wishes. But all of this was dependent on the man making it to hospital while still alive, and then being pronounced brain dead so that his organs could be harvested. Then there was the issue of compatibility. It was all a long shot, and so far, none of Jim’s attempts had been successful.
But it only took one, and he wasn’t going to stop trying. Of course, some of the victims had died after being struck, so their organs were useless, and others had survived without severe brain damage, but he had slowly honed his skill of judging how hard he needed to strike the victim to produce the results he required.
After making the anonymous call, Jim hurried home.
When he arrived at the flat, he hung his coat up behind the door and walked through into the lounge. His wife, Tracey looked up. “You’re home early,” she said.
Jim didn’t have the heart to tell her that he had been sacked, so he shrugged. “It was a slow day so they let me go early.”
Tracey frowned. “A slow day at Christmas?”
“How’s Becky?” he asked, changing the subject.
“She’s okay.”
“Any calls?”
“No, should there be?”
Jim shook his head and stared at the small, artificial Christmas tree in the corner of the room. A set of LED lights twinkled away on the branches, the glow reflecting from a few sad looking baubles and lengths of tinsel. It looked pathetic, and they only erected it to try to maintain the festive spirit that none of them felt.
Jim walked across the room and knocked on his daughter’s bedroom door and then entered. The curtains were partially drawn, and grey light filtered through the gap, illuminating his ten year old daughter’s face, accentuating her pale skin. She sniffled as he entered, and turned her head on the pillow to look up.
“Hi Dad.” She produced a faint smile that faded on her lips.
Jim sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over to kiss his daughter’s forehead. “How you feeling, sweetie?” He squeezed her hand. She felt so cold.
“I’m okay.”
She started panting slightly and Jim stroked her hair.
He sat with her, praying to hear the phone ring, but it remained tauntingly silent. After a while he left the bedroom and picked up the receiver, just to check that it was still working. He contemplated calling the hospital, but he couldn’t question them about new possible donors without giving away his misdemeanours.
He collapsed onto the chair in the corner of the room and stared at the window. Darkness pervaded the grey sky and the temperature had dropped. All across the city, lights twinkled in myriad houses, where happy families sat preparing for the big day. Jim knew that if a donor wasn’t found soon then his daughter probably wouldn’t see Christmas.
 Raised voices attracted his attention, and he realised there were Carol singers at his door. He listened to the words as they sang Joy to the World.
Tears rolled down his cheeks. Tracey came across and squeezed his shoulder.
“It’s not fair,” he said. “Why us? Why our Becky?”
“I don’t know. It’s just the way it is I guess.”
“No God can exist that would let this happen. She’s just a baby.”
The carollers stopped singing and there was a knock on the door. Tracey walked across the room and opened the door to give them some money.
Jim contemplated the lyrics he had just heard:
No more let sins and sorrows grow,
Nor thorns infest the ground;
He comes to make His blessings flow
Far as the curse is found,
Far as the curse is found,
Far as, far as, the curse is found.
Well they were certainly cursed. How many more people was he going to have to kill in order to try to save his daughter?

Tracey was watching the television when the call came. She immediately rang a taxi and then rushed into Becky’s room. “They’ve found a match,” she said, choking back the tears.
                Becky stared open mouthed. After a moment, she said, “Where’s Dad?”
                “It’s Christmas Eve, so he’s at work. I’ll ring him now and he can meet us at the hospital.” She proceeded to ring Jim’s mobile number, but it rang through to the answering service. She guessed he was busy playing Santa, so she left a message.
                By the time they reached the hospital, she still hadn’t managed to contact Jim.
“I want him here,” Becky said.
“So do I. But don’t you worry. He’ll be here by the time you come out of the operating theatre.”
“Of course.”
                She watched them wheel her daughter away, and then proceeded to the waiting room. She sat and stared at the door, then tried ringing Jim again. Still no answer. Magazines decorated a table top, so she picked one up and thumbed through it, but she couldn’t recall anything she read, so she put it back down. Her heart was racing and her fingers tingled. She couldn’t think about anything other than her daughter.
Movement caught her eye, and she noticed a nurse and a police officer walking towards her. “Mrs Bloor?” the nurse asked.
Tracey frowned and nodded. “This was delivered to reception for you.” She handed across an envelope.
At the same time, the police officer started to speak: “Mrs Bloor, I have some distressing news.”
Confused, Tracey tore open the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper. As she read, tears filled her eyes, the police officers words fading into the background:
                My darling Tracey. You’ve got to believe me when I say that everything I did, I did for Becky. I love her with all my heart.
Merry Christmas, Jim. XXX


Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Keep on running and writing.


Well a month ago I participated in the JCB Mud Run. While I had great fun, and the event raised over £30,000 for the NSPCC, I ended up spraining my ankle. #*%$ So the accompanying picture is not an elephants foot, but mine the day after.

This put me out of action for a couple of weeks, but I’m back to training again now, albeit slowly as the ankle still hurts and it's slightly swollen four weeks later. I need to continue training though as I’m entered for another couple of races next year, Hell in the Middle in February: Wild Warrior in March: I never imagined myself taking part in obstacle/trail races like these, but I have to say they are great fun and I’d recommend anyone who fancies it that they train for it and then enter one to give it a go, but just make sure you tread carefully, otherwise that might be your foot too!


Signs and advertising hoardings, they can be found everywhere, but they don’t always stand the test of time, as shown by these old ones I came across. The first one makes me think that there must have been a mad rush to train as a boot maker, and the second one is either a serial killer advertisement or the next fad in food!


I’ve just finished the first draft of a crime novella called The Heist. I haven’t done as much writing this year as I would have liked, but I hope to remedy that next year, and The Heist will be my first release of 2013. Further details will follow in the New Year.


Finally, here's a couple of books that I'd like to recommend. The first one is a short story collection by David Riley called, His Own Mad Demons. This collection of five stories has a central theme of devil worship, but the stories go much deeper and are well worth reading.

Next up is Tim Lebbon's Coldbrook, where a group of scientists lift the lid on a Pandora's box when they open a gateway to a parallel universe, but what comes through is not what they are expecting.

Monday, November 05, 2012

Tae Kwon Do black belt grading and Hell up North

Well I’ve had a busy couple of weeks. First my son and I took our Tae Kwon Do black belt grading, and I’m extremely pleased to say we both passed. The actual grading itself wasn’t as stressful as the pre-grading, which was longer and far more strenuous (or at least it felt that way). Now for anyone who’s ever contemplated taking up a martial art, I’d strongly recommend that you do so. I love attending the classes and it’s a great way to keep fit. I guess the biggest hurdle is actually getting up the courage to attend that first class. 
  You expect everyone is going to be an expert and you’re going to end up looking a fool, or worse, end up with broken bones and black eyes, but everyone you’ll see started the same way. They were all complete beginners at one time. And if you can overcome that initial fear, you could end up enjoying it as much as I do. I’m far from being the best in the world at it, but that doesn’t matter. I give it my all every time I go, and as well as helping keep you fit, it helps you make new friends, helps with flexibility, core strength, self esteem and self confidence, which is worth the price of admission alone. So what are you waiting for? Chop chop.

While training for my black belt grading, I was also exercising for my first race, Hell up North which I participated in at the weekend. I’ve only been running for about a year, and most of that was on flat roads, so I was more than a little nervous about competing in a race that comprised trail running up hills, through rivers and mud. And you have to remember that at 47 years of age, I’m no longer a spring chicken, but I do feel fitter than I ever have.

So as for the actual race itself, I loved every minute of it (okay, perhaps there were a few doubts when I was standing up to my waist in water for 20 minutes or more, stuck in a queue of people and it felt as though by balls were going to drop off). I completed the near 12 mile course in 3 hours 7 minutes. I’m guessing my time would have been around 2 ½ hours if I hadn’t had got caught up in the queues, but I guess with thousands of participants, it was only to be expected.
I’m now running again in next weekend’s JCB Mud Run, but I’ve already registered for Hell in the Middle next February. Hopefully I’ll beat my previous time. Bring it on ...

As for writing, I hadn’t done any for ages with all the training I’d been  doing, but I’ve now started again, so hopefully I’ll have something to report on that front soon. But here’s a short interview I did recently:

Now back to my training ...

Saturday, August 04, 2012

Adventures in a VW T4

Although we are seasoned campers, we have now upgraded from a tent to a VW T4 that’s been converted to a camper. The banner across the windscreen calls it the Flying Banana, so it’s not hard to guess what colour it is (I don’t think my son, Callum understands though, as he said it should be called the Flying Apple. Presumably he just thought it had to have a fruit connotation regardless of the colour).

We field tested it last weekend by spending a couple of days at the Haven site in Hafan Y Mor. When camping in a tent, you get used to how things work, so it took a while to readjust to the size of the van. It will also take a while to learn how to pack appropriately, with what we do and don’t need to take as space is limited. Although there’s a rock ‘n’ roll bed for Deb and I to sleep on, I purchased a  cab bunk for Callum which you suspend across the front doors, but as he’s almost as long as the bed already, I’ll be looking to convert the van by making it into a pop top, but I’ll have to do a bit of research to find a reputable company to do the work.

As for how we coped, it was actually good fun and very cosy. The thing I never liked about camping was the hassle of putting the tent up and down,  especially if it’s raining, and it’s obviously so much easier to park up and be done - although we have got a drive away awning with the van, but haven’t tested it yet as I didn’t think it necessary to erect when we were only stopping for a couple of days. We shall be going away in it again in a couple of weeks, so I might test it out then. But for now, the Campervan adventure(s) have got off to a good start and I’m looking forwards to our next trip. 

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Day by Day

My latest story, Day by Day is now available. This story is a departure from my usual stuff. It's still dark in nature, but it's more mainstream. A percentage of any profits from this story will be donated to a children's charity to help those affected by sexual exploitation.

Day by Day

Tired of living in her older sister’s shadow, Tina enjoys the attention of her mum’s new boyfriend, Trevor. He treats her like an adult, introducing her to alcohol and drugs. But Trevor has an ulterior motive, the consequences of which will tear her life apart.

Purchase from:

Friday, June 08, 2012

SUMMER OF ZOMBIES GUEST BLOG TOUR: Anatomy of a Zombie by Dave Jeffery

Zombies. I love ‘em, point of fact. I guess that is all well and good, but I think I need to explain why. After all, they are not everyone’s cup of Darjeeling.  As I have found when discussing the genre at conventions, the genre produces the marmite effect amongst the horror community. Some suggest that the genre is literally dead, one idea rehashed time and time again to serve the masses of zombie fans that exists the world over.

It certainly is a prime marketplace at the moment, the hunger of fans appears as insatiable as the undead themselves. Zombies are now mainstream, included in car advertisements and kid’s cartoons. We have to admit it, zombies sell. There are many indie writers jumping upon an already burgeoning band-wagon. Some results are genuinely absorbing, astonishingly good reads. Others are, well, let’s just say, zombie literature, like the movies, has a variety of standards.

I need to be clear that I have written in other genres and these books have not proven as successful in terms of sales as Necropolis Rising, my zombie novel released through Dark Continents Publishing in early 2011. I have to say that the success of this book was not as readily apparent as my need to write it. I had always wanted to write a zombie novel but made the decision to put things on hold until I had a premise that would not piggy-back existing literature and would bring something fresh to the table. Once I was happy with the plot-line the rest sort of fell into place. This was where I discovered being a fan, not an exploiter of the genre, came to the fore. You see, writing the book was easier because I was such a fan. I was aware of the lore and the interplay needed to make the story work for many of those hardcore zombie zealots, as well as draw in traditional horror fans who usually gave the genre a wide berth. Overall this has worked well (see the enthusiasm for the piece on and is certainly informing the sequel, due out early 2013.

As a fan it has also been useful to have knowledge of those elements within the traditional approach to zombie literature that I needed to avoid in order to make the premise of the book fresh. Out went the post-apocalyptic setting. Whilst I have visited this in stories such as Ascension? (Hersham Horror Books) and Daddy Dearest (Wild Wolf Publishing), the concept of an apocalyptic setting for the book left me uncomfortable, the discussions of countless forums returning in strength.

But as any zombie fan knows, the real essence of the genre lies in the human dynamics throughout a story. Now, before a multitude of authors jump up and down and shout out about how this is important to any storyline, I argue here that no other horror genre has such a commensurate focus on the effects on the human condition.  What I mean is: zombie fiction is totally and utterly about people. No monsters rising from the deep, no ethereal entities haunting folk to the point of madness. None of these things. just people, those who were and those who are, and how they have to survive. Any elements of horror rests in how they engage in the latter. Zombies in their need to feed, survivors and how they maintain any semblance of humanity.  

And what constitutes humanity in a world that no longer functions? People will always matter.


Such nuances can meld into any zombie storyline - post apocalyptic or not - and it this, I would suggest, that has contributed to Necropolis Rising’s overall success as a project. This is why I love this genre above all others and why I will always come back to it, irrespective of the marketplace or where my muse takes me in the years to come.

Until then, I shall accompany Armand Rosamilia, Ian Woodhead, Todd Brown, Mark Tufo and John O’Brien, my fellow Summer of Zombie cohorts, and try to spread our passion for all things zombie throughout June and July 2012.

All that remains is to say a big thank you to Shaun for allowing me to stop by and witter on. Read his stuff, he’s great!

Dave Jeffery
June 2012

Thanks, Dave. And you can purchase Dave's work here: and here:

Saturday, May 05, 2012

A 5 star rant

Are readers lowering their expectations? I only ask because of the plethora of 5 star reviews that I see some indie books receive compared to books that have been professionally published, and the subsequent slant this has on the Amazon top rated charts.

I’ve read a number of these books now (and I count my own among the indie numbers), and while many of them are competently written, a lot lack that certain panache, characterisation, pace and plotting that makes them exceptional, which to me is what a 5 star rating denotes. Many of these books receive higher ratings than their professionally published counterparts, some of the authors of which have been in the game for a long time.

While I imagine much of this might be down to these professionally published tomes selling far more and so garnering more readers, which then has the potential to generate more reviews with a broader range of ratings, I also feel that discounting the ‘friends and family reviews’, it’s because readers now seem far more tolerant about punctuation, grammar and spelling errors, which probably has something to do with the dumbing down of the English language, as typified by the new ‘text speak’ and instant messaging where abbreviations abound and words are often spelt phonetically rather than correctly. But I also feel it’s because many readers, knowing it’s an indie book, give it a break and choose to ignore the books faults, because they know the book hasn’t been through the rigorous stages that a professionally published book goes through. So in this respect, it’s almost expected that there will be problems with indie books, but they are overlooked for this reason.

Many reviewers are also afraid to point out what they feel are faults for fear of vitriol. This is especially true when authors review other authors, as they are afraid said author will reciprocate with a harsh review regardless of whether it is warranted or not. Another reason for this is that I feel that while professionally published authors generally don’t respond to any negativity, indie authors are not as tolerant and so people are afraid to comment.

Ultimately this helps nobody though and I feel many, many indie authors release subpar work. Now that readers are the gate keepers, a role previously maintained by the professional publishers whose books were generally considered to at least be edited to a high standard, shouldn’t it be said readers job to now cast a more critical eye and not throw out 5 star reviews as liberally as confetti at a wedding?

False praise helps nobody as both the author and potential readers are being misled, and a few harsh truths, while sometimes hard to accept, will ultimately help both the authors and the work they release if they take heed. And this can only be a good thing for all involved.

Sunday, April 29, 2012

The importance of book covers

Book covers. I guess they can sometimes be taken for granted, but when it's the first thing a prospective reader sees, their importance cannot be underestimated. A good cover should entice the reader to pick the book up, or in the case of eBooks to progress to the second stage, which is reading the blurb to see what the story is about. That's why I've never been happy with the covers I used for The Kult. It's been through a few incarnations, but none of the recent ones have felt or looked right. I mean for one thing, when you look at a cover, you should instantly know what genre the book is. The problem with The Kult was compounded because it was part of a series with Killers, but put the books side by side and you never would have guessed it.

I had been struggling to design something myself, and I'd seen a couple of covers by Karri Klawiter that I liked, so I hired her to design a new cover, and over a couple of days and a few emails we came up with something I'm more than happy with. I think both covers now give a hint of the story but they also create a sense of foreboding. I hope people agree:

The books can be purchased from and

And you can check out more of Karri's work on her website:

Monday, April 16, 2012

Dark Seduction

Forced into accepting a bet by a group of mysterious card players, Zen Barker soon discovers that there is a world beyond ours. A place of nightmare where the monsters are real: The Shadowland.

The rules of the wager? Kill or be killed. The target? A woman named Melantha who wields a sinister power called the Glamour that allows her to bewitch anyone she meets. She intends using it to take vengeance against the descendents of those who have persecuted her gypsy clan through the ages. But in doing so she risks creating a disturbance in the infrastructure, and if that happens, then the monsters that reside in the Shadowland will be released.

Now the fate of the world rests on the shoulders of a disgruntled anarchist. God help us.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

MASSIVE Spring Ebook Sale

To celebrate the start of Spring, I've reduced the price of all my Kindle books to 99 cents (77p). That's a MASSIVE SAVING of around 60 - 75% on some books. This will run from 20th March until the 27th March. One week book bonanza. Please help spread the word and share this post if you can.

Normally $2.99
Normally $2.99
Normally $3.99
Normally $2.99
Normally $2.99

Normally $1.49

Normally $1.49

Monday, February 27, 2012

Dead World

If you haven't got a Kindle, you can download a free app at Amazon to read it on your computer. 

Long after a pandemic swept the world, society has crumbled. A remnant of human civilization ekes out an existence in a closed community called Sanctuary. To control their population, the ruling brethren use a lottery, the winners of which join the new Gods that reside beyond the walls. But when her daughter is chosen, Anna Charles discovers the lottery is fixed by despotic church leader, Roman Quail. Now in a frantic bid to save her family, she flees into the hostile environment outside Sanctuary where only the strongest survive, and where all their Gods are dead. Literally.

Monday, February 06, 2012

Prosper Snow series and Hell up North

You can now download the Prosper Snow books, The Kult and Killers as an ebook set. It's cheaper than buying them individually. So for anyone who wants a serial killer thriller, here they are:

In other news I've entered Hell up North, which is part of the Hellrunner series. My intention is just to finish, but I'll have to increase my fitness to achieve that aim. At least I have until November to do so. I'll be running for the children's cancer charity, CLIC Sargent which will hopefully inspire me to complete the course. Now I just need to get lots of training done, but as I live in what's probably the flattest part of the country, it's not easy to find any hills to train on! I've now been jogging for about four or five months and my roadwork is getting better, but this is a whole different kettle of fish!

Thursday, January 26, 2012


I've been busy working on some new stuff the last few weeks, and going over some old stuff, and the latest news is that I hope to release four novellas this year. Two of them are going through rounds of edits at the moment. Hopefully the first one to be released will be Dead World and here's a glimpse of the possible cover and blurb, but these are liable to change:

After a pandemic has swept the world, society has crumbled. A remnant of human civilization ekes out an existence in a closed community called Sanctuary. To maintain the status quo they use a lottery, the winners of which join the new gods that reside beyond the walls. But when her daughter is chosen, Anna Charles discovers that the lottery is fixed by despotic church leader, Roman Quail. Now in a frantic bid to save her family, she flees into the hostile environment outside Sanctuary where only the strongest survive, and where all their gods are dead. Literally