For Little Ones
For Strange and Curious Ones
Rafe Keyn and the Temporal lisle
A time travel fantasy.
Fixers, or more properly Deputies of the Agency for Prevention of Historically Anomalous Events (APHAE) were the Agency’s most guarded secret.
The one secret guarded more closely was the Temporal Lisle itself, but that couldn’t rightly be said to be their secret. It was simply the way the universe worked. Time was not the abstract concept outsiders thought. It was a physical construct, a real and literal thing which could be seen, observed, touched.
Like anything else in the physical universe, it needed maintenance. APHAE provided it. The Agency planned to ramp up from 309 Fixers to as many as 350.
It was a disastrous plan. Rafe Keyn wasn’t supposed to think it, wasn’t supposed to pass judgment on those high-and-mighty Deputies responsible, ultimately, for guardianship of time.
But he thought it disastrous, nonetheless, and with good reason.
Fixers would destroy the Temporal Lisle.
And all of space and time.
I stayed up to finish reading it in one sitting.
What more could one ask of a book?”
Nothing at all.
— Mrs. G
A Long, Hard Look
A short, fat banker. A willowy, buxom blonde. Phil Brennan’s latest client is the former. He prefers the latter — until he gets to know her better. She and her family back Brennan into a corner. His only way out is to choose between truth and love.
With this family, there’s a third choice, just for good measure.
— Elizabeth Craig/Riley Adams, author of the Memphis Barbecue Mysteries
The day his dream career ends, Jesse Donovan reconnects with an old flame. All he has to do to live happily ever after is abandon everything he’s ever believed in.
— Mrs. G
An amnesiac is pursued through the wilds of west Ireland accompanied by a beautiful woman who may or may not be his friend. As flickers of memory return they only add to his confusion.
A light mystery that’s more about people than puzzles. Includes 50 black & white photographs by the author.
— Kari Hagensmith
After 3 years this sequel to Through the Fog is finally available.
How do you choose which innocent person gets hurt? In this sequel to Through the Fog, the two living O’Quinn brothers are back, luring Web Martin into another Irish adventure.
An ancient map showing the earliest voyage of an Irish hero can’t fall into the wrong hands — especially since it’s a forgery. Niall and Fearghal make it sound so simple. Web doesn’t believe a word of it, but with an Irish police officer for a girlfriend and a security specialist as his best friend, Web has no doubt they can sort out what the O’Quinns are really up to without getting in over their heads.
You’d think he’d know better by now.
— Susan Mayfield
Perfect for the littlest in the family — or anyone who loves cats, fun, adventure, and travel.
Short Stories, Vignettes, and Poems with Wit Both Light and Dark from my blog, newsletter, and private collection, written over the past decade. Some are funny, some are darkly funny, some are just dark.
Waste of your money. I don’t recommend it. Buy something you’ll understand. Perhaps even like. Not worth the price of admission to see someone wading naked into their stream of consciousness. Don’t say I didn’t warm the cockles of your heart me hearties. Breakfast of trampolines. Here’s how it begins: The sun shone. Morning. He awoke for the first time, knowing it. The dream was over but not the dreaming. Smells and sounds, but not in a dream. The sun shone in his dream. There was a time upon him once and for all, shiny and golden. Liquid amber arrogance but justifiable. Leaden sluggish, antimony laze. Across the horizon floating benevolent a circle of yellow through eyelids and sky lids. Rounding the horn a horn blowing roundly soundly the sound of pipes and drums of eardrums pummeled. Flailing failing frothing legs furiously pulling pushing coverlet duvet diving. Foot free feeling fairly flushed. A second later a second settling. Upright but not upright. Not devoid of deviousness the dream denied obfuscation ostentation illumination organization. Shake clear rub tousle toss and smear and clear and stretch. Enticing feather filled. Time was upon him at once. Stumble tangle kick. Stumble flick click golden glow to cold wet. Too much too soon too loud too much. One two. Two drawers of drawers a box of something and trowels in the dirt tying one on. Not news but like it not liking it. Goodbye Austrian stockings. Tying two on. Banister as in sliding preposterous mind yourself get a grip banish banisters and barristers perishing barristers. Riser tread tread riser calculated fall and run. Thirteen of each. Wall strolling feline feral and fierce yellow eyed. Kindred spirit indeed. Yellow shirt at least not yellow streak. Streaky yellow platter fat unfit with points and fat and something overhead plopping whopping points points yolks on you. Too soft. Bitter better bite. Abandoning hope all hope whoever enters at half ten to soak scrub arrange the melange making moribundity more abundant. Not housebound et ux no such luck. Pants package picked up and dog teeth tussled keyed up keyed out keen to be seen oh ho not at all. Snick slip click one two one two one two must be done must be done slip jingle sigh and riser tread riser tread concrete abutment. Scurry through curry hurry past furry fury umbrella. Umbrella. One never knows does one of course One knows not this one. Furry fury curry scurry slipping snicking only one brolly prolly a probable umbrella doubles as parasol. Snick slip click one two one two one two must be done must be done slip jingle sign and riser tread riser tread but the concrete then curry then fury then apace anon anonymous. Concrete. Instead of benevolent gold instead of puff and blue instead shining rectangle upon shining up and over up and over and concrete. Take out the trees to put in the trees and fence the trees to keep the trees safe but the bugs right the bugs and anyway there is more to life than trees though trees bring more to life. Mewing on concrete mewling behind shiny rectangle a smile a smile not at all fool not a smile more mewling. Glare behind glare once more the time was upon him time upon time time to climb upon. The smell oh that smell always the smell are the windows locked or do they not smell the smell. Rigidly riding not rapid. Vapid with vapors if the vapors would vanish or varnish instead in his head the smell the smell shriek thump ha and the smell do the windows not open. Eight hundred seventeen the crush the rush the push the smell behemoth kneels and concrete. Pummeling noise buffeting boys and whirls into the golden rectangle. Closer and slower yielding resistance purposelessness pursuing pathetic purposes. Yet once more unto the security carousel careful yourself carousel of joy to the whirligig whirl and giggle they will never let you in there is a thought. Suspicious and unsmiling resenting the gig wearing a big rig do ya dig ain’t no pig don’t give a fig that ain’t no wig zag