In Three Days...

We're getting sooo close guys! 

I thought I'd start with a little update first, though.

The first, very rough draft of Ghost's book is done. I put a period on the last sentence yesterday morning. There's a lot of work left, but it's all revision from here on out, thank goodness. And not a moment too soon because I'm so tired I'm ready to run off to the Himalayas to become a Sherpa, that's how burned out I am. 

So I am going to take the next two days completely off, and you, my lovely readers, will get one last glimpse into Hard Line before it goes on sale on Tuesday! Have a great weekend, everybody!

Sullivan stopped for breakfast on the way to Tobias’s motel, getting a cup of coffee large enough to decimate his stomach lining by the end of the day, and pounded on the door with the flat side of his fist. It opened so swiftly that he felt a rush of air against his face.

“Where have you been?” Tobias asked, the words stiff and bitten-off.

“Hello, Tobias. I’m fine, thank you for asking. Yes, it is a lovely day, isn’t it?”

Tobias’s eyebrows crushed together, and Sullivan watched with growing, vindictive amusement as Tobias fought the urge to be polite. Finally, resignedly, he said, “Sorry. Hello, Sullivan. How are you?”


“Great. Where have you been?”

Sullivan rolled his eyes and went inside. “Chill. I overslept.”

Tobias closed the door behind him with an air of such perfect control that Sullivan knew that he’d been tempted to slam it. “Half the day is gone.”

Sullivan put his bag of food on the table. “I have a life outside of following your every impulse, you know.”

Tobias’s shoulders tensed. “What are the plans for today?”

“Today we’re going to commit a crime.”

That crease between Tobias’s eyebrows deepened. “I—I don’t—”

“Don’t try to pretend that’s crossing some sort of line for you.” Sullivan eyed him darkly and crammed half of a greasy hash brown patty into his mouth.

Tobias’s next breath was pointed and slow, the breath of a parent trying not to lose his temper with an unruly child. “What kind of crime?”

“How much cash do you have on you?”

--Excerpt from Hard Line, by Sidney Bell, copyright 2018