Morning,
Just thought we’d let you know about some of the exciting things we’ve got going on here at Byker towers and also highlight some of the excellent short fiction we’ve been posting. As ever, all comments, shares and correspondence welcome - you can get us at info@bykerbooks.com and we’re always happy to hear from you.
Happy Reading.
The Ed
We’ve re-issued two of our earlier novels Hammered & Special with new covers (and in the case of Special a long-lost missing chapter)
For anyone wanting signed copies of these books we’ve got a special offer of £15 for the pair with FREE P&P - just get in touch at info@bykerbooks.com and we’ll sort you out.
Also, in case you missed them first time around check out these excellent pieces of fiction :-
The Slip
Tony surveyed the scene from the beach bar. A nice little cove full of quiet sensible holidaymakers. The sea glistened in differing shades of turquoise, his dip earlier had confirmed the crystal clear freshness of it, and the sand was nothing less than golden. The trees dotted round the outskirts beckoned you in with brilliant green greetings as the war…
Go Call The Vigilante...
Rob Lawrence knew he’d had a crap upbringing. He wasn’t stupid like people thought he was either, despite not going to school since he was thirteen years old. He knew for instance that a five pound bet on a five to two shot would give you twelve pound fifty plus your stake back. He knew that screaming about your human rights whilst under arrest would usually get you out of the nick fairly quickly or at worse a telling off and a slapped wrist. He knew that working forty to fifty hours a week for shit money was a lot harder than burgling houses, particularly ones he could be in and out of in ten minutes, and he knew for an absolute fact that even if he wanted to, which he didn’t, he couldn’t cross the mighty Falcus and stop working for him or he’d be on the end of a savage beating, maybe even death. He knew as well that his granny worried about him, she told him all the time so it was an easy one to work out. He often went to hers for food as there was usually no one about in his house; his dad was still inside and his mam, well, if she wasn’t ‘entertaining’ then she was in the boozer spending her commission on her previous night’s ‘work’.
Neighbourhood Watch
Karl Robson scratched the beer belly protruding from over his tracksuit bottoms, burped loudly and flicked what was left of his cigarette over the balcony of the tower block onto the vandalised children’s playground below. Only then did he contemplate the two, nervous looking, middle-aged women standing before him.