I will, when sufficiently fueled by coffee, will write (almost) any genre you want. I don’t get along well with Harlequin or bodice-ripper style romances.
3… 2… 1… Ignition. I’m pushed back into my seat, and climb into the heavens.
Course pre-programmed for an orbital insertion.
But… the world isn’t a sphere. It’s landmasses, floating in an ocean, on a flat plate.
Outlaw breed, robbin’, runnin’, and laughin’.If the law had half a brain among ’em, they still couldn’t catch those boys.
Bank owned my farm, me as well. Barely tolerated me working the land, pretending I had a hope in hell…
Gas tank ran dry in another Nowheresville. Now you’re just a few stops down the road to the Promised Land from where you started, worn out from working to make…