Join Me on Patreon!
As an author, I am constantly creating and innovating, working hard to craft lasting connections between readers. At last, I’m giving folks a chance to not just get a host of amazing perks – but to help me as I pursue my dreams. Join my Patreon today and I promise you, every dollar of your support will go directly into my writing – into paying cover artists, hiring freelance editors, buying ISBNS, paying for writer’s conferences, covering contest submission fees, creating audiobook editions, and ultimately putting more of my work into your hands.
Patron’s at every tier get exclusive Patreon posts about my writing and my world, early access to cover reveals, blog posts, newsletter content, and the chance to vote in polls!
[image error]Patron’s at every tier also get access to a Patreon-only microfiction story every month. Here’s a sample of a previous Patreon-only microfiction story called “Move On”:
Ghosts don’t do much talking as a rule; they’re too self-absorbed. That’s why they walk through walls. They’re too busy dwelling on their own problems to notice that the hotel has been remodeled since they died in it in 1850.
Being a medium can get pretty damn lonely. It’s like being at a party by yourself. You can see everyone else mingling and drinking the punch, but nobody’ll talk to you. It’s like being invisible.
That’s why I killed myself.
Well, that’s one of the reasons. It wasn’t exactly a hard decision to come to. No family, no job, no place to live; and a whole load of used-to-be-people wandering around in my head who wouldn’t even ask me how I was doing. I figured, if I was dead too, maybe they wouldn’t be so shy. Now I realize it wasn’t shyness; it was goddamn condescension.
Folks who join at the $8 level will receive a Patreon-only short story of the spicy variety once a quarter. Here’s a brief sample of some of the spice you can expect:
Their lips touched, and the world started to dissipate like it often did. It was strange how intoxicating the taste of her skin was, even after all this time. With a soft sigh she allowed herself to slump down beside him, sliding the fruit on the other side of him; but not before picking out on particularly large one and placing between her lips. She leaned towards him and without missing a beat, his lips again met hers; closing around the exposed end of the voluptuous fruit, juice seeping out from their lips only to be recaptured by roving tongues.
Finally, folks who join at the $15 level will receive a commissioned Flash Fiction story on a topic of their choice every month. Here’s a brief sample of a previously commissioned Flash Fiction story:
The mermaid smiled up at him, her teeth a row of razor sharp daggers. “Aren’t you going to help me come aboard?”
“No, I don’t think I am,” replied Jacoby.
The mermaid’s smile disappeared. Her lips pursed into a pout and her scaly arms lifted out of the water towards the rim of the boat. “Oh, please?”
“Now, we’ll have none of that.” Jacoby brandished his oar. “I don’t want no trouble, little miss.”
The mermaid drew her arms back with a splash. She glared up at Jacoby, frowning. “Drat. You’ve done this before.”
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