Though not in that form. I will plug the updated cover nearer the day. Right now I am typing this on my internet-connected computer. Ah, luxury. I write on a computer that has no links to the world-wide drain on authorly time.
So expect to see a slightly more Japanese version of the above cover.
Meanwhile, counting down to publication, I am plugging my published works. Here you go...
FICTION FACTORY. Welcome to my mini-self-publishing imprint for short stories running around 30,000 words. These stories are not collected or bundled with other tales. If you buy WITCHES, you won’t suffer disappointment in later life by finding WITCHES reheated for a collection called TALES TO IMPRESS PALAEONTOLOGISTS. Be thankful for that small mercy.
Two men died. The third man faded. SHE spoke to the police. The police looked into that connection. Nothing connected. Trailing over old ground, cold ground, SHE thinks SHE’s on the right track. The trouble with following tracks? Sometimes you meet trains coming the other way.
SHE has little to go on but instinct and a curiosity that’s already killed the cat. On this mad little adventure into the unknown, it’s the dog SHE should worry about. No full moon. Little sign of silver bullets. Maria Ouspenskaya checked out of that hotel a long time ago.
Follow in the footsteps of two, or three, dead men. Take a walk into the alleys just off
Maldine Square. Ignore the café chatter.
Find your way to that place, where the brass dragon shakes two silver bells as
you tumble through the door. Take a look around. See what you can find. Be wary
of anything that finds you.
39,000 words, plus notes.