I've been working on a full novel that I plan to have out by the end of the year:
Archeologist meets lady sheriff, roughly, over the missing sheriff's truck and a query about the dead body they found in his basement. He wants to find and stop whoever is looting and destroying Utah archaeological sites, and she wants to find the missing sheriff without too many entanglements. Needless to say that isn't quite working out as planned- for either of them. It is a southwest, murder-mystery, killer-thriller, and if all goes well, the first in a series. I already have some great ideas for the next 4-5 stories in the series. Lee McEuen is the archaeologist - he's half Goshute Indian and proud of it. She is Jackie Kincaid - the only non-son in a family that have been Texas Rangers for generations. The desert can kill you, hide you, or even sustain you....your choice.
Oh, also.... it's finally motorcycle season here in Michigan. I've been gathering the sun's vitamin D rays on my face and arms for the last week in and out of work. It sure makes the world feel and smell nicer. Except for that strange day last week that I kept smelling spiced peach jam all along the way to work, except for one stop that smelled like doughnuts. It inspired me to grab a dozen this morning and squeeze them gently into my side-bag for me and my work mates. Kind of a "have a great long weekend" kind of morning.
Now, here is Flash Fiction Friday... Thanks to the ladies over at Eight Ladies Writing, because I decided to participate in their Friday Writing Sprints.... want to try your luck and spin some random words? Drop by over there and add some. It can be a lot of fun. It definitely loosens the up the old brain cells - waky waky little brain! :D Here's my entry for the day:
by PR Henriksen
|Picture from Morgue File|