And I’m musing over book two in the series. I may even have come up with a title for this series or something close anyway. I was toying with the idea of calling it Running when we last spoke, but I think it will definitely be Surviving. However, I may add an extra word in there so it’s more like the series’ titles.
The other titles in the series are probably going to be called Forgiving Zander and Delivering Hope.
Forgiving Zander is going to be the sequel to Breaking Cadence and I plan to write it alongside working on Baying For Blood, which will be the sequel to Preying On Time.
Continue reading “Breaking Cadence Is Finished!”
You’re probably sick of hearing me mention Preying On Time and Breaking Cadence, but I need your help.
Both are books in a series; however, as yet, I haven’t decided on a title for either series. I have two ideas for Preying On Time, though.
Those two ideas are Violet Skies and Indigo Skies. Unfortunately, I have my qualms about the first name, even though I prefer it, so your help would be greatly appreciated in the decision.
Why do I want to call it one of those two?
Continue reading “Series Titling Help & Other Junk”
The Man With No Face
Starting with Merchandise, this is a continuation of Putrid Fume.
Was she screaming or were they?
“Get me my information!”
The noise seemed to come from everywhere, piercing her ears and spearing her brain. She writhed in the chair, eyes rolling back in her head and froth collecting on her lips, trapped between her body and her mind.
“In her arm! In her arm!”
Continue reading “Flash Fiction No. 50”
A continuation of Merchandise.
Pain blistered through his skull. Cold, aching pain.
Frosty sunlight skimmed the toes of his trainers. Morning sky was barely distinguishable between the crowded leaves above him. The dense foliage had obviously saved him from capture as he’d lain unconscious after his fall, but that wasn’t all good. It meant that she was on her own with them.
Blinking, he stumbled to his feet, limbs stiff and uncomfortable. She would need his help to escape; psychics weren’t as well equipped as others to deal with these situations. The last psychic he’d tried to help…
Things hadn’t gone well…
Continue reading “Flash Fiction No. 49”