You can now pre-order About Aiden HERE. I've included a story excerpt below, and if you click on the link, you can also see an adult excerpt, too. :o)
“Aiden. No last name that I know of.” Terry twisted the phone cord around his fingers. “Yeah. He was in a fight outside your club last night, I hear. Well, no, I’m not police. I’m a reporter for The Parano— Hello? Crap.”
He replaced the receiver and rubbed his aching neck. His first lead in three damn weeks, and the club wouldn’t talk about it. From the reports, the man, Aiden, had been attacked by three shifters at once in the alley around the back of The Pit and walked away without a scratch. Even if that was an exaggeration, it was still worth an article by itself. Readers were always asking for Aiden scoops.
Terry sat back in his chair and dropped his legs back to the floor. One more week and I’m history. His boss hadn’t been kidding around this time. Not after the fiasco with the reported “merman” who turned out to be a sweaty man in a latex tail. Unfortunately Terry hadn’t found the truth until after he’d flown halfway across the globe on the newspaper’s money. When he’d given his boss the bad news, he was very nearly left stranded with no return ticket.
Speaking of whom...He dropped his legs back to the floor as Mr. Jacobson poked his sweat-sheened bald head around the door of the office.
Terry put on a fake enthusiastic smile. “I’m pretty sure it was him. The club isn’t talking, bu—”
“One week left, Reeves.” Jacobson stuck out a pudgy finger. “One!”
Terry nodded then winced as the door slammed shut. The task was a setup, of that there was no doubt. Jacobson wanted him out of his office, so he ordered Terry to find a man who some people didn’t even believe existed.
The name had changed over the years, but the description of the man, and his achievements, didn’t. By all accounts, he was a veritable superhero. Terry pulled two surveillance photos and a printout of a mobile phone shot from a slim manila folder and slapped them onto the desk.
They weren’t the best photos, but they were all he had, and that was more than anyone else had managed in a decade. Aiden was between six and six and a half feet tall, stocky with short black hair, and always wore a long trench coat. The rumoured reasons for this were as logical as to hide his sword and as farfetched as to hide his wings. Terry was hoping for the latter, given that he worked forThe Paranormal Times and not The Random Vigilante Times. Not that there was much chance of him being human. The man had been sighted in a dozen events this year alone, was always fighting against something undesirable and always winning, no matter the odds. I’d let him wrestle me to the floor anytime.
He tried to concentrate on the matter at hand. Jacobson had given him the job because he knew that it was impossible. No fewer than ten other reporters had tried to locate Aiden in the past year alone, and every one had failed.
“Well, I’m not going to be one of them.”
He stood and stretched out his back then yawned and ran a hand over his two days of stubble. He needed a shower and a shave, and then it was time to visit The Pit. The chances of Aiden returning were slim—he’d rarely done so in the past—but maybe there was something to be found in the alley. After a drink. Maybe I’ll get lucky in the club, too. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d got lucky. Pretty sure dinosaurs still roamed the earth.