Happy Birthday to the General

So today is my Birthday!

*tosses confetti*

I’m not going to mention years, though if you subtract 2016 from 432 …. you’ll get an estimate!

What do I want for my birthday?  Besides World Peace, Sylum Manor, and a really really good Flat White?

I would like to hit 100 sales from my book, right now I’m at 58.  That means I need 42 more sales.

There are 701 of you on this blog.

You’re here because you found Sylum at some point and went oohh I like that, lets see what happens next.   Some of you are new and have wandered in via POI Afternoon Fic and probably wondering what you stumbled into!

Help a General out on their Birthday!

Buy my book.   It’s a novella and it’s only 99 cents.  I would love to hit 100 sales by the end of the year.

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Conversations in Real Time by Nicholas J. Finch

Beginning with a series of emails sent back and forth between the UK and the USA, this novella is the story of how two men, one a Los Angeles detective and the other an Oxford research student, find themselves drawn to each other despite leading very different lives on opposite sides of the world.

Their relationship starts with a professional offer of assistance and through instant messaging, texting and phone calls they invade each others’ lonely and yet busy days, learning about themselves and slowly falling in love as they discover they both need something from the other until they finally get a meeting face to face and can get up close and personal.

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Format: Epub, Mobi, PDF, Ibook … etc

Price: .99 cents

Where:

Barnes & Noble

Kobo

Itunes/Ibooks

Smashwords (If you have Kindle and need Mobi Format, you can get it at Smashwords)

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For those who’ve bought the book.  Thank You!  So what can you get the General for their birthday?? Leave a Review at the following places, even if it’s just giving it a star rating.  I’m trying to generate interest, and the more reviews the better.

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And for my gift to you … a small snippet of a Timestamp I’m working on for Advent!

 

 

As dawn approached, siblings Jacob and Evy Frye made their way across the last of the rooftops, towards their home. They were tired, worn out, drained, and exhausted. They had been chasing down a small group of Rogues, who had decided it would be bloody fun to Feed on teenagers and leave their bodies in back allies.

After the third body, the press whipped the locals into a frenzy declaring the death’s to be ‘Ripper’ style murders, which instantly got Abberline’s attention. Once it was realized that the victim’s blood had been drained from their bodies, with no visible mark, the press went overdrive and started calling the potential killer ‘Dracula’.

Neither situation was good, and no one wanted Ripper in London.

With the MacManus’s occupied at Saint Michael’s Mount, Abberline approached the other set of twins. If there was anyone, who knew London, it was them. He gave them the information, and figured it was best that they dealt with the situation, instead of the local bobbies getting in over their head.

Jake really didn’t have much faith in the local police. It didn’t matter what time period, most were corrupt bastards, especially in the East End. If they weren’t corrupt, they were too few of them to make a difference.

They hunted the bastards down for three days.

Relentlessly.

Until every single one of them was a pile of dust, swept away by the dustman as they picked up the garbage.

By the time they headed back to their home, the adrenaline was dropping, the aches were settling in, and neither were fully awake.

Jake’s landing onto the street blow, may have been a bit off.   Actually he landed perfectly, an trained Assassin, especially one who had their assed kicked by Nicolaus and Altair at one point in time, could land perfectly with one knee down, hand on ground in their sleep. Jake just kinda tilted slightly.

Evy landed behind him, a bit more graceful. She kicked his ass, sending him into the gutter, chuckling as she stepped over him, barely avoiding tripping herself and entered the building.

“Fuck you, woman.” Jake pushed himself off the ground, and followed her inside. They dragged themselves up the stairs, and into their loft.

Gear. Clothes. Weapons.

All landed on the floor, a direct path to their individual bedrooms. Jake’s top hat landed on the lamp, on the nightstand just as he face-planted into his bed. A small part of his brain thought he should take shower, but he had no energy left to even contemplate it.

Just as his eyes shut, and he was on the verge of blessed sleep …

A high pierced alarm shot through his head, waking him up.