Uncategorized

The Origin Stone, re-released!

Hi everyone, just a quick note to say that the second edition of The Origin Stone is now out, and it’s available in paperback, large print paperback and Kindle edition. Yay!

Links for all formats:

Kindle

Paperback

Large Print

The blurb has also been tweaked a bit, so if you’re interested, here it is:

Emily Renzi thinks she’s going crazy. After her parents move to a quiet village, she senses that something is off about the house they’re living in.

Dreams of strange creatures invade her sleep, and mysterious shapes appear in the garden. Confiding in her older brother, Ru, they research the house’s background and find out that a scientist disappeared there during World War Two. Afterwards, sightings of strange creatures were whispered around the village.

Could the creatures in Emily’s dreams be the same ones and if so, what do they want from her? Struggling to piece together the truth, Emily soon understands that monsters come in many forms

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Poetry

A photograph of a bench by a lake

The bench is open to any body

contemplating the cool glass before it.

It sees the day and the night, a breeding

ground for those lost souls who have been guided

falsely by the clouds.

It sits in the one patch of sun breaking through the shadows

playing bait. It knows some

will wish to be swallowed up.

Poetry

In the study

I can tell by the worn tips of your fingers that you are no stranger to disciplined needlework.

You walk through a graveyard on your way to work, too. The slight smudge of clay soil on your boots, you see.

The only patch of earth between your boarding house and the factory where you are employed. Quick when one is late, I imagine.

Yes, I think you are often late. You arrived here two minutes late, with a flush to your cheeks. You wear no corset, your movements are too free. Easy to hasten. A common practice.

No, I haven’t been following you. I’m simply reading.

Now to the case at hand.

Uncategorized

Unofficial Detective has been shortlisted!

Hello everyone, today I received an email notifying me that my debut, Unofficial Detective, has been shortlisted for the Books Go Social Readers’ Choice book of 2017!

If you would like to vote for it, or check out the other shortlisted books, you can do so here.

Happy reading!

Poetry, Uncategorized

Oh, it’s that section of the library, is it?

Books in court,

their words binding the defendant

to the table

wrapping the air with motive,

mystery,

evidence that is pure fiction,

until the jury

stands up and reads

aloud.

The books fall down

blown away,

scattered, pages billowing

like petticoats

in a stiff morning breeze.

Uncategorized

Jard Town, the home of Thordric Manfred Smallchance

Today I thought I’d do something a bit different, and talk a bit about the town Unofficial Detective, my debut book, is set in.

Jard Town is its name, and it was given by its founder, the wizard Kalljard, who since the town’s inception one thousand years before Thordric’s story starts, was High Wizard of the Wizard Council (yes, he really was that old)… until his untimely death at the beginning of the book.

Before that, it was just a small settlement surrounded by forest and thus full of forest folk, including the Watchem Watchems, who even at that time, loved to disguise themselves as shrubbery and put people on edge by following them around. But Kalljard put an end to all that, driving every creature away and building the foundations of the town in their place.

Now it bustles with normal town life, full of carriages, wizards, half-wizards (though for reasons of personal safety, they don’t openly admit it), bakers, builders, students, dry cleaners, police officers and many serious people. Nothing special, really. Except, of course, that no-one knows how hateful and ruthless a man its founder truly was.

At least, not until Thordric stumbles – somewhat by accident – onto the truth.

 

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If you’re interested, Unofficial Detective is available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble, as well as The Book Depository.

Poetry

Bird watching

The birds feed from my open palms.

Sometimes they land on my head and pull

cheekily

at my hair or

search for worms in the creases of my dress.

Cars bleating along the highway

scare them away, but they always come back.

The police sirens are the worst, five or six in a row

at times.

You’d think

with so many about,

that one of them would have found me by now.

I hope they do soon

while there’s still something left of me

to find.