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I did a deep dive into my business today. I’m very disappointed in myself. It’s like looking in the mirror and seeing a gut grow. I know how it got there. I stopped running. Stopped eating right. Drank more beer. All the things that got me into the best shape of my life, I quit doing them. Same thing for the business. I can complain that the algorthym changed or that the market shifted or blah blah blah. I can also look in the mirror and see what I did. Or what I didn’t do. Let’s look at last quarter. I did soft releases of four new books. In four separate series.   I preach staying in one series until you master it and are making the money from it you want. I didn’t practice it. I launched at full price in a new genre where I have no presence and no list. This worked for a couple of other writers. I wanted it to work for me. It did not. So it’s back to the basics for me. That means running at least a mil...

CHAPTER ONE He stared at the drop of golden amber liquid on the tip of his finger. It glistened in the neon glow of a beer sign behind the bar, beaded up and hiding his fingerprint underneath. He imagined for a second he could see the twirl and swirl of the unique lines that only he owned in all the world. Fingerprints, the ultimate identifier. “Are you going to bet?” Jake shot a look at Amanda behind the bar. She had one hand behind her back, a bottle of what was on his finger hidden in her grip. “Double or nothing?” he shot her a cocky grin. “You’re on,” she snapped back with a smile. He put the tip of his finger on this tongue, transferring the drop onto his taste bud. He let it roll around a minute, savoring the miniature volcano of heat on just that one section of his tongue. It made the rest of his mouth water in anticipation. “Dewar’s,” he announced. Amanda pulled the hidden bottle from behind her back and showed him the label. “I’m impres...

Ever time travel? Most people don’t think it’s real, but if you’re like me, you believe in it. Still skeptical? Ever hear a song that takes you back to a special place in your life? How about a smell that sparks a memory? Or that shiver you get from déjà vu’? That’s time travelling. If you believe in quantum theory, there are a number of reasons for it. Parallel universe kind of stuff. Or maybe the Sherlock explanation works best. It’s just a simple pleasant memory. For me, I have a lot of fond memories. I don’t think my childhood was easy. I grew up so broke, we were just Po. We couldn’t afford the or to be poor. Single hippie mom. Cigarettes and beer were number one and two on the grocery list with food a distant third after a dime bag for Friday night. I had grandparents though and I’ve talked about Mamaw and Papaw before.   Grew their own food. Hunted their own meat. Built things with their hands. And always always had some...

CHAPTER THREE Jake almost fell when the door opened and Gretchen stepped around the end of the shower. He was sure his mouth dropped because she wore the gold necklace he got her as a gift and nothing else. “Got room for me?” she asked. It was a rhetorical question because Jake wasn’t stupid, and neither was she. He had installed the shower himself. It was the width of the room, partitioned by a single pane of glass with an entry on either side that led to four shower heads. There was a giant picture window on the exterior wall, double paned for energy and tinted so anyone standing in the shower could see the width of what once was his empire and now belonged to a developer he no longer called friend. “Save me some hot water,” Gretchen scooted around the end of the glass partition and turned on a second spray of steamy water. He still thought of it as her end, he mused as his eyes travelled over the rest of her. Same Gretchen, same lines, sam...

CHAPTER ONE The phone trilled on the nightstand.  3:00 A.M. Brill rolled over and scooped it up without seeing who it was.  There was only two people who had this number and only one who called him this early in the morning. "I thought you would be running," said Carver. His deep melodious voice sounded like it belonged on a radio or television announcer, his South African accent muted but clipped after many years in his adopted country. "Another hour," Brill answered. He had planned to do heat training today, eighteen to twenty four miles that put him under the noon sun at the hardest part of the run when the willpower was sapped and the sweat stopped running.  This was the way he tested his body over and over again, working on that part of the mind that begged him to stop, begged him to quit and sharpened the senses of his bulletproof will. Carver knew he wasn't an early morning runner, so it was a constant joke between them.  Brill ...

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