Jack Finney Author Novels & Stories

“Is…is that code for something?” I laughed. “No, no. Joy Needermyer. She’s an author I’ve been trying to get published for months. Amazing sci-fi novel. Space ships and battles and…ahh!” I bounced in my seat. “You can read it! When I get her published! Because I’ll be senior editor!” Jack laughed. “I’m looking forward to it,” he said as the timer buzzed from the other side of the kitchen. Standing, he crossed the room and opened the oven.

Seventy-five is clearly just the tip of the iceberg. On My Bedside Table Now The Historian, by Elizabeth Kostova, and I am Legend by Richard Matheson. And everyone is telling me I forgot The Vampire Files — some 12 novels by P.N. Elrod. Urban fantasy set in 1930s Chicago, featuring a hardboiled P.I. named Jack Fleming. FacebookTwitterFlipboardEmail Sign Up For The Pop Culture Happy Hour Newsletter Stay pop culture savvy with NPR’s guide to TV, books, movies, music and more, sent weekly.

Honestly, she couldn’t have been happier if they’d been the lights of the heavens themselves. As Jeffina walked inside the dingy diner, the old wooden door creaked slightly. She looked across the beaten floorboards to the counter and the rickety-looking tables. A big, muscular man sat at one of the tables, staring vacantly at the wall. He turned to face her as she walked in. His face met with Jeffina’s in a contemptible stare. She nodded, and smiled meekly for a moment.

“Well. That went well. Hey listen, remember our conversation on the drive up here, about being subtle with Franklin? Just wondering . . . what does the word ‘subtle’ mean to you, exactly?” Gavin’s face stiffened. “Don’t start, Jim.” “Hey, hey.” Jim raised his hands. “I’m on your side. You know that. I agree with you, Hammer-Fiske is mishandling this project. But,” he folded his arms, leaning back against the mezzanine’s cold railing, “if you’ll remember, I told you three years ago you’d be better off sending Forever War to either TOR, Titan, Baen or Pocket Books, someone with an established name in science fiction.”

he murmured. Jackson’s eyes narrowed. Andrea bit her lip and turned away in an unsuccessful bid to hide her grin. Looked like Mathin wasn’t the only one who’d come for his girl. Haunt men always finished what they started. About the author: I'm a multi-published author, living on a small farm with mini milk goats and a big garden. I spent the first 34 years of my life in Alaska, land of the midnight sun, but these days I'm located in Washington, and am enjoying a much warmer sun.

THE SKYLARK DINER Father Ward closes the journal but doesn’t look up for several minutes as he taps its cover with a fingertip. His expression looks similar to the one I’ve always imagined wearing after finishing Gavin’s latest batch of stories: one of incredulous, amazed unease. Of course, neither Father Ward nor Fitzy has read many of Gavin’s stories. They apparently decided early on there was a limit to what they wanted to “know” about this town. It’s become understood that Gavin’s stories are strictly for him and I. This story, however, felt intended for Father Ward. At the very least, he figured so largely in it I believed he needed to read it.

Mia asked, dragging her thoughts away from her panties…or non-existent panties. “That’s what we call the executive team. Carter Beckett is our editor-in-chief and author of our financial column, The Hip Pocket; and then there is Finn Devereaux, author of In Like Finn, a dating and relationship column. Jack Daniels—yes that’s his real name,” she said as if she was often questioned about it, “—author of Q-Branch, our tech and multi-media blog. Parker Grey, our entertainment editor and author of The Locker Room, and of course you already know Liam Thompson and his blog, Manscaping.”

"Finn was the stupid one. How could he think he wouldn't get caught? What was his game plan? Sure he's some computer genius, but he's a real fucktard when it comes to life." No one replies to my outburst with anything more than a head nod. They're probably scared to spook me. We make our way to the jacket section, a tall long rack which runs the outer length of the building and I ponder the situation more as I slide each jacket across the rail not actually seeing any of them.

Olson Embers: A Collection of Dark Fiction by Kenneth W. Cain Visions of the Mutant Rain Forest, by Bruce Boston and Robert Frazier Tribulations by Richard Thomas Eidolon Avenue: The First Feast by Jonathan Winn Flowers in a Dumpster by Mark Allan Gunnells The Dark at the End of the Tunnel by Taylor Grant Through a Mirror, Darkly by Kevin Lucia Things Slip Through by Kevin Lucia Where You Live by Gary McMahon Tricks, Mischief and Mayhem by Daniel I. Russell