Here is a list of my current projects.
A Deviant Time (Time Bandit, 2)
Superhero novel with strong romantic elements
Release date TBA
The phone trembled as the woman held it in front of them. “See. Here’s his picture. Wait a sec.” She enlarged the image with a pinch of her fingers. “There. He’s about six feet. With a goatee. Brown. Brown hair with, like, a few grays in it. He was going gray, and it was bothering him, but I told him that I liked it. It made him look more distinguished, you know? I was razzing him that it made him look older than me, which I like because I’m two years older than him, and I told him that I hope he gets more grays because I color my hair, even though he told me that I didn’t need to because he loves—“ Her voice cracked, and Time Bandit watched as tears welled up in her eyes. “Anyway. Did you see him? My husband? Was he there? He’s been missing for six weeks.”
Time Bandit slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t.” The woman’s crestfallen look broke her heart. “But like I’ve been telling everyone, I didn’t see anyone in particular. So many of the rooms were dark. People were asleep. None of us saw anyone.”
Contemporary Fiction (Coming-of-age novel)
Samantha tuned out her mother’s laundry-list of tells and pressed the back of her head against the now-cool leather seats. She watched the neighborhood whiz by her window. The well-worn south side of Chicago was gritty in the early May morning. Men with their winter clothes on their backs and wool caps on their heads pushed their grocery-carted lives past hard-faced women with fretful babies on their hips. A bus burped and bellowed, spilling smoky exhaust as it groaned to a halt in front of a bus stop. A lean, harried women yanked her toddler by the arm as she boarded. A stooped, grey woman struggled to follow.
It was all the same. The same grimy people living the same down-on-their-luck lives on the same cracked street corner on the same south side that Samantha had always known. The streets were different when her parents first got married and moved into their home—only the second black family on the block. But that was 20 years ago, and the white neighbors had fled for the greener suburban pastures and now all that remained were the run-down homes, the shady businesses with rusty gates on their windows, and the broke-down people. And the Matthews.