It has been a long time since I last posted here. Have moved two states since then, graduated from college, went back into the workforce for little more than a year, and am raising a wonderful son. Have also left the workforce, trying to get back into it, and won first Nano! That novel is next on the rehab (revision) list. Hope to have that out in March sometime. Title: Rebellion's Price.
As for now, 'Mitch' is finally finished (aim to revise sometime in Sep-Oct). SNI: Torin (part one) is being finished for a postponed release in February. Aimed to get it into print as well as e-book, but, will have to delay that option for now. Still looking.
Cover art for Torin-P1 is done.
Sad news, The Forest Green has been dropped by Alfie Dog Limited. Was not selling well, so was a mutual step down. Wish them the best and was great fun being a part of them while it lasted.
So! Onward and upward as the rubber band snaps. On my FB: Fox R. R. Haddock, I've posted an excerpt of the coming Torin-P1. Here it is (without the format issues! haha):
Hair
of murky brown pulled into a banded leather tie; eyes shining as if polished,
Torin spied the building, seemingly lost in thought. Sinclair knew better. She was listening. He, too, could hear the chants. Outside the boundaries Torin had set as safety,
men no one else could see eyed them from ghostly cowls. They dotted the landscape about the castle.
Sinclair
kept kindness at his lips as Torin let out a breath, not unlike most she had
ever taken. She turned for her hand to
shake his with a firm awareness. Behind
them, over the short cut grasses and under slumbering skies, gathered their oak
brethren.
“Stay
clear,” Torin prayed for her clansmen's safety, “and await their signal.”
“Will
do,” Sinclair agreed, not looking forward to seeing his distant kin going into
the property which had once been a place of her demise. Blood made no-never-mind to him. Torin was a sister. They had simply met too late to have enjoyed
it. “Be safe,” Sinclair hushed as Dion
sauntered over, reflective stripe of the medium’s black jumpsuit dull in
comparison with their ice-white hair.
“Ready?”
David asked. Torin gave a short, dutiful
nod as she let go of her Scottish brother.
How much, David did not fully know—yet.
“Alright,” David looked scantly between the two of them. Behind Sinclair stood gathered a number of
man in green robes and gold belts of braided cord. Their purpose, David did not agree with. SNI had their own source of protection and
could withstand the efforts of any entity.
The team had—many times—in the twelve years David had overseen them.
“Why
don’t you stay out here,” David pointed verbally, “unless we call you?”
“Sure
thing, Boss,” a hooded man from the back spoke for the group. Sinclair smiled despite his own masterful
demeanor. Torin, David had to look
twice, was biting back a snicker; her face turned away to hide the strangle of
such a smile it may have matched Sinclair’s—had it lived.
“We’ll
be here,” Sinclair affirmed, joyfulness no longer seen. The man’s eyes, David acknowledged, were on
the team’s newest, and apparently least known, addition. “SNI will have no interference from us, Mr.
Dion,” Sinclair finalized, eyes finding the man which he addressed. “You have my word.”
“Thank
you,” David turned to lead Torin away.
Sinclair’s jaw puffed at the sides from the distance inserted from where
she had just stood.
“Torin,”
Sinclair halted her steps. Torin walked
back to where she had been. Sinclair
stepped closer for one final hug—prayed it wasn’t. “You are loved, Child.”
Torin
returned his embrace with a grip that carried more sentiment than she could justly
convey. “By my word, Brother,” she said
into the fold of Sinclair’s downed hood.
“We’ll raise a pint at the end.”
Torin
let go, taking her place among the American team.
‘Scotia, Cerridwen, I charge you both with
her care,’ Sinclair sighed. With
every step Torin took closer to the tower, he felt a strumming, stirring of
what was always awake. And waiting.
Thank you for reading.
More news to come.
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