NEW RELEASE: 44.1644° North

 

It turns out it took about a week longer than I'd hoped to complete the novella 44.1644° North, so I'm guessing that week-long lag will translate into everything in the first half of the year. 

But it's done! And I'm so happy. I think it's pretty good too. There are a couple of little Easter Eggs in there for readers and true crime buffs alike. I mentioned earlier that the story was inspired by the still-unsolved disappearance of Maura Murray. Fun fact. She disappeared on the night of February ninth in 2004, so realizing the book went live last night--on the 19th anniversary of her disappearance--was startling.  

But yes, it went live last night on Smashwords and Kobo . And this morning it looks like it's available on Google and  BarnesandNoble. It will not be available on Amazon until Sunday. That's because it was a preorder with a planned release of May 10, so it's coming out three months early (and even when you ask for immediate release, it takes ZON three days to let go). On the bright side, if you preordered through Amazon, you probably got that reduced preorder price, so you wait a tiny bit longer, but you saved a buck. 

BEFORE YOU ASK: Yes, it will be available in print. Yes, it will be in audio. Kale Williams is already set to record this one. :-) 

So what's this little standalone about?

The decades-old disappearance of twenty-one-year-old teaching student Deirdre O’Donnell is the Holy Grail for true-crime buffs—and Skylar Brennan, the host of the Ugly Town podcast, is no exception. In fact, on the mean streets of the internet, he’s considered an expert on the case. (In law-enforcement circles, he’s viewed as just another crackpot amateur sleuth.)

Every February, the remote New Hampshire village of Woodlark holds a candlelight vigil for Deirdre. Family, friends, and “supporters” of the long-missing girl gather at the spot where she was last seen. This is Skylar’s first vigil, and his fans are really looking forward to meeting him—though maybe not as much as the anonymous person who emailed him coordinates to Deirdre’s grave.

 

 EXCERPT

The cold should have sobered me up. It was fucking freezing. I was pretty sure my lungs were icing over. I could barely get my breath. And the lights were shooting all over the place.

I stumbled away from the pub and into the trees, and then I couldn’t remember which of the dark cabins was supposed to be mine. They all looked alike when they were asleep. Which started me laughing so hard, I had to grab the nearest tree to stay upright.

“Can I have this dance?” Beneath my bare hands, the bark was rough and textured, and I leaned my face against it and breathed in the bittersweet, earthy scent of tree skin. I stopped laughing and just breathed with the tree. The endlessly spinning tree.

What the hell is happening?

A hand landed on my shoulder. “May I cut in?” someone asked.

I rolled over, but somehow that meant I was no longer leaning on the tree, no longer leaning on anything. I staggered backward, and the hand on my shoulder became two hands, hauling me back on my feet.

“Whoa,” Rory said.

I tossed my hair out of my face and nearly fell over again. “I know you.”

“You forgot your coat. And hat. And gloves. The good news is you still have your pants on.”

“You wish!” I shot back.

He gave a funny laugh. “Uh…well. It’s not high on the list, but…”

I raised my hand and made a broad cutting motion—and found my arms full of my jacket, scarf, hat, and gloves.

“Would you like some help getting to your cabin?”

“Which one’s mine?”

“You got me there.”

“I got myself there.”

“Hey.” He patted my face with his gloved hand. “Brennan?”

I ignored him, dropping my coat and things, patting my pockets for my keys. I frowned into his face. “Did I leave my keys inside?”

“No. Brennan, hey. Hello? Skylar? Sky? Still with me?”

I opened my eyes. Shook my head.

“How much did you have to drink?”

I held my hand up and began to count it out.

“You think? Because I was watching. It didn’t look to me like you had that much. Is it possible someone spiked your beer?”

“Who? You?”

Even in the shadowy light I could see he was taken aback. “Me? No. Not me.”

I said confidently, “I think it was you. I think you’re up to no good, Rory Whatever Your Name Is.”