Download Dreams of the Boardwalk For Free!

Hey All!

The shelter-in-place continues, and I have one more book to share for your entertainment: Dreams of the Boardwalk. This one is a story of hot summers, bright beaches, better worlds, and the dreams of the city. Maybe the best thing I have to offer for these troubled times, and it’s free to download now through Thursday, April 2.

Careful, though. This one is rated R.

And don’t forget, once you’re done with Dreams of the Boardwalk, ALL of my stories are available for free reading on Kindle Unlimited!

Take care and keep healthy everybody!

The Truth of Rock and Roll Is Available for Free Download!

Hey all!

Well, St. Patrick’s Day has passed, but even more of us than before are now trapped inside to avoid the Coronavirus.

So you all can have something to do until we can all go out again, my novella The Truth of Rock and Roll is now available for free download on Amazon. And remember, my entire library is always available for free reading on Kindle Unlimited.

Stay healthy! Or get well soon. Whichever applies to you.

How the Trumps Brought Death and Destruction to Coney Island


Charles Denson is a historian and former (current?) resident of Coney Island.  He’s one of my primary sources for Dreams of the Boardwalk and my upcoming fantasy novel City of Dreams.  He’s here today to talk about how Donald’s Trump’s father mutilated an iconic New York neighborhood; literally killed people with his greed and racism; destroyed a landmark in one of the most cruel, petty and vindictive manners possible; and raised his son to be just like himself.  

New Book Trailer Up!

How could I forget to post this one for so long! The book trailer for Dreams of the Boardwalk is now up in the Book Trailers archive! But just in case you don’t want to go that far, here it is right here!

If that makes you interested in a copy of the book, just head on over to Amazon!

Excerpt from City of Dreams: George Fuller’s Last Day at Coney Island – Part 2

The picture above is he latest draft of my novel-in-progress, City of Dreams. What do you think?  The young woman above is Aislin Rourke, heroine of City of Dreams, but I’m afraid you’re not going to meet her in today’s passage.

Today’s passage is the second half of the story of George Fuller and his accidental journey into the Dream of Coney Island, begun in this post last week.

George’s story is an illustration of the classic advice to writers: “Murder your darlings”. George’s story is intended to be an interlude in City of Dreams, but it’s more than forty pages long. You can’t have an “interlude” that’s 10% of the total length of the book. That means that you, the readers of this blog, are getting to read an uncut version of this story that will not and cannot make it to the final book.

So join me for the story George Fuller, Sally, and their last day at Coney Island. 

Beware.  NC-17.   

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Continue reading “Excerpt from City of Dreams: George Fuller’s Last Day at Coney Island – Part 2″

Excerpt from City of Dreams: George Fuller’s Last Day at Coney Island – Part 1

One of the classic pieces of advice for authors is “Murder your darlings”.  You have to be willing to sacrifice any individual part of the story – any scene, any character – for the greater good of the story as a whole, no matter how much you love them.  

This passage is a classic example.  This story – and the second part, coming next week – are intended to be an interlude between chapters in my Novel-in-progress City of Dreams.  They tell the story of an old man who accidentally crosses over into Dream when such a thing shouldn’t be possible, and illustrates that Dream can be just as dangerous in its way as Nightmare (though you do die happy).  Between the two sections, this “interlude” is more than 40 double-spaced pages long.  Clearly, some darlings need to be murdered and some serious trimming needs to be done before the final draft of the book.  You can’t have an “interlude” that’s 10% of the total book.  But I love the story of George Fuller, Sally, and their summers at Coney Island.  So I’d like to share it with you in its uncut form for perhaps the one and only time.

Beware.  NC-17.   

***

George Fuller sat on a bench on the Coney Island boardwalk and looked out at the ocean. 

Continue reading “Excerpt from City of Dreams: George Fuller’s Last Day at Coney Island – Part 1″

Neighborhood Witch Is Available For Free Download Now Through Thursday!

Celia Rivera is a well-respected citizen of the Washington Heights neighborhood of New York City. She runs her own little shop, and she’s respected by everyone from the old men playing dominoes on the corner to the young people who spend their days looking for trouble to get into. They respect her wisdom, her toughness…

Oh. And she’s a witch.

Celia Rivera’s shop sells more than candles and incense, and she keeps her little corner of the City safe for everyone. And when someone targets her family for magical retribution, it’s time for the kind of magical street fight that can only happen in the City.

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In honor of the passing of the woman who inspired Celia Rivera, I want this story to spread far and wide.  So please head on over to Amazon and download a copy

If you like it, check out the rest of the library…and please, do an author a favor and leave a review.

Announcements

Hey all!

Three pieces of news!

1) I have broken 200 pages on my new novel, City of Dreams!  Look for sample first draft excerpts to be coming soon!

1a) Of course, excerpts from my older works will continue to be posted.  Watch this space.

2) My author interview is up at Booksgosocial!  Go and have a look!

3) And finally, the book trailer for Dreams of the Boardwalk is complete!  Have a look!

Looking The Other Way is Available for Free Download Now Through Friday!

Every time you go down into the New York subway, you take a chance that you won’t come out again. That’s just the way it is. Usually, the only thing to fear is your fellow passengers. But there are other things waiting down there in the dark below the City, and sometimes the only way to stay alive is to look the other way.

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Reviews Praising Looking The Other Way:

Netanella

September 27, 2015

Format: Kindle EditionVerified Purchase

 

 

The Dreams of the Boardwalk Giveaway Is Coming to a Close

Just one more day to go in the Dreams of the Boardwalk giveaway!  To give you a taste of what you might be missing, here’s an excerpt:

I knew the exact moment that they realized I was on to them, because their faces…split.  Huge grins stretched much farther than a human mouth could open, almost literally ear to ear, and they were grinning mouthfuls of fangs.

I don’t think they expected me to react as quickly as I did.  Greaser grabbed for me as I spun away, but gave a cheated shriek as his fingers just skated across the back of my shirt, and then I was off and running.

Usually in nightmares like this, it’s like the world goes into slow motion.  No matter how hard I try to run, I don’t get anywhere.  Or maybe the boardwalk would stretch into forever in front of me, so no matter how far I ran, there was no escape.  Or no matter where I ran, the monsters would always be there in front of me.  But none of that was happening.  I was booking it, and it was a good thing, too, because Greaser’s shriek brought more shadowy figures pouring out of the darkness.  They appeared out of the pools of shadow near broken streetlights, they climbed up through the gaps in the boardwalk, they came up from the darkness beneath and crawled and skittered over the railings, a horde of street thugs from all ages of New York City.

(And I do mean all.  There was someone who looked like he’d stepped straight out of Gangs of New York running beside Scary Punk.)

I vaulted the railing and dropped down to the sand.  I don’t know why I did that; it was crazy.  In the waking world, the sand was level with the boardwalk, but here, it was a fifteen-foot drop, and if I’d broken my leg, I would have been helpless.  Trapped prey.

But I didn’t.  And I didn’t let myself think about it.  I hit the ground, let myself fall, let myself roll, let the sand take the shock, rolled all the way back to my feet and I took off.

Or tried to.  Coney Island beach sand is deep, and running in it is hard.  I think I surprised them, going over the rail (but how do you surprise the monster in your nightmare?), but I wasn’t gaining enough ground.  Worse, I was tiring out again.  That first run had taken a lot out of me, and a second burst of adrenaline wasn’t going to carry me far.  Not far enough.

I looked over my shoulder, and oh god, they were swarming.  Swarming down off the boardwalk, leaping like insects, swarming up from underneath like cockroaches.

I floundered and struggled across the sand, my legs and my chest burning, trying to squeeze out that one last ounce of speed.  Why had I even done this?  Where was I going?

Then the West End jetty came into sight, and I understood.  Sometimes in dreams you know you desperately have to get somewhere, you don’t know why, you just do.  And that unconscious knowing was leading me right to my tide pool.  I had no idea why, how it was supposed to save me from a horde of monsters in street gear, but –

Oh god, what if it wasn’t there?  It was a tide pool!  I might be making a desperate break for a stretch of damp sand!  And with the heat and the endless run sucking the life out of me, where would I go from there?  How much further could I push on before I just collapsed in the sand?

But no, the tide was high, washing syringes and garbage high up on the beach.

I buttonhooked around a fence and there it was, free of garbage and shining like the Moon.

Now what?

Stand in knee-deep water and hope that helps?  It wouldn’t even be enough to save me from the heat!  Why did I come here?

I turned around and looked back.  They were coming – howling and shrieking and laughing that high, insane laugh, halfway across the beach now.

I had to wake up.  I had to wake up!

I spun around, shut my eyes tight, and dug my fingernails into my arm, hard enough to draw blood.

Nothing.  It wasn’t working.  I couldn’t wake up.  I couldn’t wake up!

That was the breaking point.  I was too tired to run any further, and there was no place to run anyway.  This terrible dream just wouldn’t end, and I couldn’t even wake up.  Exhausted and beaten, I dropped to my knees in the sand.

“Damn you, Dream Boy,” I whispered as the first of my tears dripped into the pool “Where are you?  What good is it to have a dream boyfriend if he’s only there to dance and eat cotton candy and screw?  Where are you when I need someone to fight for me?  Fight like Justin never – “

“You need to give him a name.”

“Who said that?” I looked around wildly, but there was no one.

“Over here.”

I looked at the tide pool, and it was like looking through Alice’s Looking Glass.  On the other side of the tide pool’s surface, it was a bright, sunny day.  Standing there on the other side of the pool was a young man – maybe thirty – with a black goatee.  He was wearing sunglasses, a top hat, and a black bathing suit, the old-fashioned kind with the shoulder straps.  In his hands, he held a big Key to the City that read “Coney Island”.

Help!” I screamed into the water. “Please, you’ve got to help me!”

“I’m trying,” he answered. “But you’ve got to listen.  Your dream boy – you need to give him a name.  You can’t call him without a name.”

I looked over my shoulder.  They were so close, they were coming around the fence now, and this guy was talking about names.

“What?”

Listen!  Your dream boy can help you, but you have to call him, and in order to call him, he needs a name.  You already know it – you dreamed him, he’s your perfect teenage boyfriend, all you have to do is let yourself realize it.  What is his name?

And that was when I realized he was right.  I’d known Dream Boy’s real name all along.  It was a name that none of the actual boys I’d known when I was a teenager had worn, but it had always seemed to me to be the name of restless teenage ride-on-the-edge funtimes, of hot summer nights, leather jackets and cheap wine.

“Jimmy,” I whispered.  Ripples began spreading across the tide pool, and the image of the man on the other side disappeared.  Somewhere, I knew, Jimmy’s hair had just turned a lighter shade of blond, and a spray of freckles had appeared across his nose and cheeks, as was appropriate for a Jimmy.  And those things would stay; he was more real now, more solid and defined.

And he was coming.  He was on his way.  He just needed –

JIMMY!” I screamed.

And then he was there.

Want to know the rest?  Head on over to Amazon and pick up your free copy of Dreams of the Boardwalk.  Promotion ends today!