Murder and Mayhem Preorder on DSP!

On By Rhys FordIn Good News, Heh11 Comments

Murder and MayhemWOOOT! Murder and Mayhem is up for pre-order on DSP. Amazon Link to follow!

Preorder here: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=6468

Description:

Dead women tell no tales.

Former cat burglar Rook Stevens stole many a priceless thing in the past, but he’s never been accused of taking a life—until now. It was one thing to find a former associate inside Potter’s Field, his pop culture memorabilia shop, but quite another to stumble across her dead body.

Detective Dante Montoya thought he’d never see Rook Stevens again—not after his former partner falsified evidence to entrap the jewelry thief and Stevens walked off scot-free. So when he tackled a fleeing murder suspect, Dante was shocked to discover the blood-covered man was none other than the thief he’d fought to put in prison and who still makes his blood sing.

Rook is determined to shake loose the murder charge against him, even if it means putting distance between him and the rugged Cuban-Mexican detective who brought him down. If one dead con artist wasn’t bad enough, others soon follow, and as the bodies pile up around Rook’s feet, he’s forced to reach out to the last man he’d expect to believe in his innocence—and the only man who’s ever gotten under Rook’s skin.

Rain, music and whatnots

On By Rhys FordIn Heh10 Comments

I’ve been having issues with the new book. Okay yeah, I always have issues but this time, oddly enough… it’s the title.

I’d love to name it Dirty Side Down. Sadly, that’s a Cole title sound. From now on, anything with Dirty in it is going to make me think of bullets, snarky gay detectives and Korean food.

Word association is an interesting thing.

There are words we never think about how much they weigh until used in a certain context then suddenly they grow fangs and thorns or turn the inside of our brains maudlin with memories of things and people we cannot shake.

Shake. Another word. Milky, sweet or hard, terrifying rock slamming together beneath the earth until its crust breaks.

Odd things those. Words.

Yet we still have problems talking with one another. We talk TO easily enough but WITH is sometimes hard.

I think it’s because even through we all have the same words, we all speak our own different language…even if we share the same sound for chair.

Someone once said it’s odd to think that the brain is the only thing that ever named itself.

And I think in some secret corner of our minds, it’s still naming things, seeing things, hearing things on its own terms while laughing its head off at the confusion it causes.

Fucking not-chairs.

Morning!

On By Rhys FordIn Heh6 Comments

This is an interesting blue. It’s a nice blue. But it’s sort of in the medium range of tones. On the other hand, it is very water-hued so maybe that’s what they were going for? I’m on the fence about the blue.

But it’s a nice shot. Very sweet.

Excerpts… Murder, Ink and Sloe

On By Rhys FordIn Excerpt, Free Stuff, Good News39 Comments

How about a few excerpts? Just for a lazy Sunday. What’s coming down the line over the next few months. Don’t forget to enter The State of the Rhys Giveaway on The Novel Approach if you haven’t already.

Murder and MayhemMurder and Mayhem

All Rook could smell was blood.

Hot. Metallic. Dirty. Blood.

It stung his senses, an angry hornets’ nest of odors he couldn’t outrun—even as he pounded down one of Hollywood’s tight back alleys. Rook could hear shouting, piercing rushes of sound caught in the maze of brick, glass, and cement behind him.

A sun-faded aluminum can crinkled when he stepped on it. Folding up over the edge of his high-top, it clung to his foot for a stride before gravity dislodged it. Nearly tripping over his own feet, Rook stumbled, then caught himself with a grab at a rolling trash can, tipping the enormous black receptacle to the ground. Garbage poured out of the heavy bin, foul, sticky liquids gushing out from its depths, and as Rook jigged around the stream, he was very aware of the sounds of footsteps closing in on him.

He’d be damned if he let them catch him. Continue reading “Excerpts… Murder, Ink and Sloe” →