Tag Archives: Urban Fiction

The White Field Release Blitz

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Crime Fiction, Urban Fiction, Noir, Drama

Release Date: September 18, 2020

Publisher: TouchPoint Press

 

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The White Field is a fast-paced journey of a man, Tom, fresh out of prison
and trying desperately to rebuild his life. But he is caught by mysterious,
unseen forces beyond his knowledge or control. After his release from
prison, he is dropped back into the world in the wastelands of the city. In
the menial work afforded the underclass, he begins his new life among
characters at the edges of society, dwellers of the netherworld such as
Raphael, a former cop from Mexicali singing Spanish arias in the mists of
the industrial night among drug addicts and crooked cops; Tony, a stoner
scholar with an encyclopedic knowledge of history based solely on the
intricate study of rock and roll; and Larry, the bloated, abusive manager
trapped as much as his workers in a world of tedium and repetition and
machines. Think, The Three Stooges on acid. Unable to reconnect with
what’s left of his family, Tom embarks on a criminal path more
harrowing than the one that led him to prison in the first place. Lured in
by the nefarious, Thane, he slips into a plan that will leave him with no
way back. And with no place left in this world to go but prison, he makes
one last run for freedom. Will he escape?

 

Praise for The White Field:

 

“The White Field is a rabid yet tender odyssey into the oscillating
abyss of an ex- convict degenerating into redemption. Cole writes with
haunting splendor, illuminating the dreams of the doomed.”
—Matthew Dexter, author of The Ritalin Orgy

 

“Author Douglas Cole’s breakneck prose places us squarely in
the hectic mind of a man influenced from all sides, seeking a life free from
fear. The result is a stunning narrative that is simultaneously frightening
and familiar.” —Kerri Farrell Foley, Managing Editor Crack The
Spine.

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 Excerpt

 

I walked into the sun. It seared the road and the rooftops, intense,
blinding. I went up Eighty-Eighth Street through the homes and the old elms
with their heavy summer growth and darkness along their limbs, light
strobing through the shadows. I knew someone might recognize me. They might
even call the police. But I couldn’t resist. I was free, now. Nobody
could touch me.

Only those who cared, and by now there were none, would have known my
release date. My wife may have known. At one time, I imagined her writing it
on a wall calendar, marking off each day leading up to it with a big, black
X. But I knew I’d fallen far from her thoughts.

I couldn’t be sure of my children, though. They were so young when I
went in they could have forgotten all about me. My wife had remarried. Very
likely they called her new husband daddy. Very likely, they thought he was.
Events had erased me. After all, I’d made no contact. And while I had
no idea what my wife might have told them, unless she’d changed in
ways I couldn’t foresee, I knew she’d tell them the truth if
they asked and say nothing if they didn’t. At worst, they believed I
was dead.

And that life seemed like something unreal. There were no traces of it
around here. But my sense of time was way off. From counting, literally,
minutes as they passed, I went into a vast timeless trancezone where whole
years vanished. In the midst of this, I reemerged from time to time to peer
into my little cell of life with seconds hanging like drops of water on a
window ledge and refusing to fall. But now, walking this street, I was the
last person anyone around here was expecting to see.

So, as I went up Eighty-Eighth to the old house, I had this strange feeling
that I was invisible. In the dusk light, I saw the windows of the houses
blazing. Commuters on their way home shot by and curved around the meridians
in the intersections, their faces steel traps that snapped and flashed
mirror eyes and grim lips and frenzy, frenzy for home, motion so fast they
blurred into tracer ribbons. And the sun only cloaked me that much more.
Even my shadow was a rail.

And I heard it, that high tension ping, like my own past ringing from the
driveway and those days when I was a kid, too, playing into evening as our
faces disappeared in the darkness with only the square of the backboard
above and the black sphere of the ball and the heat and breath of the other
players around me. Then I saw them, three boys playing basketball in the
driveway. One was a tall gangly kid with long black hair and ripped jeans
and a T-shirt with the word ENEMY printed on it. Another kid stood beside
him, but the light made it hard to see his features. Then, the ball landed
on the rim, bounced up, arced over to the other side of the rim, hung there
suspended in the net for a moment and then dropped through. The third boy
stood back from his shot with his hands on his hips, breathing hard, turning
his head slowly as I saw, I swear, my own face there in front of me.

With a brow of concentration like a hawk’s predatory gaze, he looked
at me as our eyes locked for an eternal moment that I thought carried some
recognition, but the moment changed before I could read it.

Then, I was passing on, and my son returned to his game.

About the Author

Douglas Cole has published six collections of poetry, a novella and has a
novel, The White Field, coming out in September with Touchpoint Press. His
work has appeared in several anthologies as well as The Chicago Quarterly
Review, The Galway Review, Bitter Oleander, Louisiana Literature and
Slipstream. He has been nominated twice for a Pushcart and Best of the Net
and received the Leslie Hunt Memorial Prize in Poetry. He lives and teaches
in Seattle. His website is https://douglastcole.com/.

 

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Animal Instincts Blitz

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Urban Fantasy, Urban Fiction
Published: March 2020
Publisher: Hostile Slurz Publishing
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Animal Instincts: The Urban Jungle is a collection of creative stories based on the lives of animals in an urban underworld jungle. The stories are focused around a family of outlaw rabbits who are fixtures in the criminal activities taking place in the jungle while trying to maintain a balanced life and family structure. Deceit and mistrust lead the rabbits down a dark rabbit hole of revenge and murder.
There are no happily-ever-after’s in these stories. Join the Jackson rabbits as they navigate their way through the urban jungle using their Animal Instincts.
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About the Author
S.L. Jackson, an Urban Fantasy Author, from Inkster, MI, who now resides in metro-Detroit first entered the publishing scene in 2019 with the novella ‘Animal Instincts: The Urban Jungle’. He is an auto worker, a community activist skilled in the art of urban jungle survival, a podcaster, and a former entertainer and entertainment education provider. You can always find him reading, watching, and listening to interviews, helping others achieve their goals, and busying with anything that challenges his creativity. “Writing is my way to escape,” Jackson says.
Even though his first novella ‘Animal Instincts: The Urban Jungle’ is considered an Urban Fantasy he prefers not to place himself in a box and stunt the growth of his creativity by limiting himself to one genre. He is the creator of the hashtag #respecturbanauthors. He has been nominated for several awards that include Feathered Quill Awards, Ippy/Elit Awards, Top Shelf Magazine Awards, and Top Shelf Book Cover Awards. His podcast “The Connected Experience” is a cultural and lifestyle show.
Jackson is currently working on a comic book and cartoon series for ‘Animal Instincts: The Urban Jungle’. His plans also include more books, awards, and his books placed in libraries across the world. “Animal Instincts: The Urban Jungle” has won the GOLD MEDAL award for “Short Story Fiction” at the 2020 eLit Book awards.
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SIDE CHICK NATION by Aya de Leon – Blog Tour

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SIDE CHICK NATION

by Aya de León
A Justice Hustlers Novel
Publication Date: June 25, 2019
Genres: Adult, Romantic Suspense, Urban Fiction, Feminist Crime, Standalone

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AVAILABLE NOW!

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SYNOPSIS

A Justice Hustlers Novel

She’s beautiful, unpredictable–and on the run from dangerous men. But this
ex-side chick is ready to risk everything to help others in trouble . . .

Fed up with her married Miami boyfriend, savvy Dulce has no problem stealing his
drug-dealer stash and fleeing to her family in the Caribbean. But when she gets bored in rural Santo Domingo, she escapes on a sugar daddy adventure to Puerto Rico. Her new life is one endless party, until she’s caught in Hurricane Maria–and witnesses the brutal collision of colonization and climate change, as well as the international vultures who plunder the tragedy for a financial killing, making shady use of relief funds to devastate the island even more. Broke, traumatized, and stranded, Dulce’s only chance to get back to New York may be a sexy, crusading journalist who’s been pursuing her. But is she hustling him or falling for him?

Meanwhile, New York-based mastermind thief Marisol already has her hands full fleecing a ruthless CEO who’s stealing her family’s land in Puerto Rico, while trying to get her relatives out alive after the hurricane. An extra member in her crew could be game-changing, but she’s wary of Dulce’s unpredictability and reputation for drama. Still, Dulce’s determination to get justice draws Marisol in, along with her formidable Lower East Side Women’s Health Clinic’s heist squad. But their race-against-the-clock plan is soon complicated by powerful men who turn deadly when ex-side chicks step out of the shadows and demand to call the shots . . .

Praise for Aya de Leon and her novels

“Staking out space for women of color in the heist-fiction genre, Aya de Leon’s smart, sly writing is a knockout.”
–Andi Zeisler, Bitch magazine

“This well-written and enjoyable installment in de Leon’s unique, feminist, urban crime-fiction series . . . infuses satisfying power in both plot and character.”
Booklist on The Boss, STARRED review

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SIDE CHICK NATION

EXCERPT

Several months earlier . . . 

Dulce Garcia crept toward the back door of the nightclub’s VIP room on the balls of her stiletto sandals, trying not to wake her boyfriend. He lay, splayed back on the leather couch, in a post-orgasmic half-doze. She spat into an empty beer bottle, and tiptoed to the room’s back door. She tried to push it open with her free hand, but it was too heavy. She needed two hands for this. 

She stuck the knot of money down into her cleavage, and pushed with both palms flat. The large metal door creaked against rusty hinges. In the humid Miami climate, cheap metal springs like these always rusted. This back door, required by the Florida fire code as a secondary exit, was rarely used. She tried to close it quietly behind her, but the metal was too heavy, and it tipped her forward in the six-inch gold heels. 

The slam of metal on metal woke her boyfriend. As she crept away down the dank, concrete hallway, she heard him call to her. His voice was usually loud, but it sounded faint through the thick slab of steel: “Dulce? Where’d you go, mami?” She tiptoed down the hallway to the outer door that would lead to the back alley.

But the steel could not contain the roar of rage when he realized his money was missing. She had felt a second bulge in his pants when she unzipped his jeans. As she went down on him, she had slipped the wad of bills out of his front pocket, and palmed it after he finished. 

Through the metal, she could hear the slam of the VIP room’s other door. He had assumed she’d headed back into the club. She grinned as she pulled the handle for the alley exit, expecting to cut around the corner and hail a cab for a quick getaway. Uber was out of the question. It was his credit card on the account. 

But the alley door was locked. She pulled with all her strength, but it wouldn’t budge. Either locked or rusted shut. She looked around frantically, afraid she would be trapped. She couldn’t retrace her steps through the VIP room—in case he came back looking for her. She ran now, not even trying to be quiet. As she sprinted toward the other end of the hallway, there was a second door that led through a storage room. Either way, she’d need to find her way out through the club. The club where her Dominican drug dealer boyfriend would be assembling his crew of boys to find her, the side chick turned “fucking bitch” who’d stolen his take for the night.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

MUSIC PLAYLIST FOR SIDE CHICK NATION

BOOKS IN THE JUSTICE HUSTLERS SERIES

SIDE CHICK NATION

ABOUT AYA DE LEON

Aya de León teaches creative writing in UC Berkeley’s African American Studies Department. Her award-winning Justice Hustlers series has received acclaim in the Washington Post, Jacobin Magazine, and The Establishment. Her work has also appeared in Ebony, Essence, Guernica, Plougshares, The Root, VICE, and on Def Poetry. She is an alumna of Cave Canem and VONA.

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