Outsiders – Wordsworth the Tramp, Book Two

Having published From the Edge of an English Summer, I had in mind to write something different this time around, but the book was very well received, with many readers pressing me for a sequel. The plan was always that the tales of Wordsworth the Tramp would be a series, just not immediately. However, I succumbed to the pressure and decided my other projects could wait a little longer. The result is that we are now at the point where the second in the series is due out very soon.

I had in mind an idea for the cover, which I think the designer has managed to capture perfectly and which I’m proud to present to you now.

All they set out to do was find a missing teenager, but one thing always leads to another for Julian Ashton and his tramp friend, Wordsworth. When the local teenagers find there’s a greater variety of fun on offer at the fair than the usual attractions, things turn sinister and deadly.
The intrepid duo are plunged into a murky world where devious intruders threaten the safety and sanctity of their quiet suburban lives. The amateur sleuths have no option, but to fight the battle of their lives. Losing is not an option, but first they need a strategy, copious amounts of courage and a deal of luck.
Their efforts to learn, adapt and survive would be comic, if there wasn’t so much at stake.

For anyone wishing to catch up on the story so far the first book is available for 99p or 99 cents on Kindle or £6.99 as a paperback from Amazon, just click here: http://tiny.cc/AmazonWordsworth

Wordsworth’s Glade

Thank-you for all the support I’ve had from Friday Fictioneers so far for my debut novel. I’m looking forward to the launch date December 1st and the subsequent reviews. This week’s 100 words is a short excerpt because the prompt fitted so well. I hope you enjoy.






PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

The air was full of the scent of new shoots and woodland flowers. We crested a rise over which there was a steep drop to a clearing through which ran a wide stream, tinkling over rocks and gravel. A kingfisher perched on a wayward branch hanging over the water and alarmed rabbits scurried away, white scuts bobbing through the green before disappearing into an extensive warren. After the mad race from Claretree, the sense of peace and wholesomeness was palpable. “Where are we?” I asked Wordsworth.
“If you were me, you’d probably call it home, I’m reluctant to call it my place.”

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.