Tribe of the Undead, Book 1
Servant of the Undead 

Having sex with an ice-covered, smudgy-eyed woman in tattered fishnets and a barely-there mini-skirt is Hayden Thomas’ first mistake. His second: thinking he’s in control of what happens next.

The city of Boston is held hostage by a snow storm and rumors are spreading about zombies roaming the streets, looking for human flesh. Hayden Thomas, tabloid newspaper writer, is out to get something fresh about zombies for his editor. At the Boston Public Library, Hayden uncovers some old research that suggests that some zombie tribes survive by having constant sex instead of eating human flesh.

Mattie, a zombie out looking for information on a rival tribe, finds Hayden and uses him for sex. After using him, she discovers his research. She wants to find out how to reverse herself and become one of the living again, so she decides to keep Hayden as her sexual servant so she can use him for information as well as sex.

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Tribe of the Undead, Book 2
Mistress of the Undead 

The city of Boston is infected with zombies, roaming the streets and seeking human flesh—not to eat but to use as sexual servants. Mattie, one of the tribe, wants out. She’ll do anything, manipulate, cheat, lie, to get what she needs to break free from the sex cult.

Hayden Thomas, tabloid reporter and wonderkid, knows first hand how cruel and consuming Mattie can be. Book smart, a good writer, and willing to do anything to get the story that will take his career to the next level, he’s made some depraved enemies. 

In a city that thrives on scandal and conspiracy, nothing is coincidence.  Beware: once you’re in, you’re in. 

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Tribe of the Undead, Book 3
Disciple of the Undead 

...coming October 2022

New Vintage Pulp: Zombies, two stories 

Bait by Isabelle Drake 

On the floor of Cade's truck were three cans of Reddi Wip, two chocolate and one plain. There was also a pile of Taco Bell trash and an empty fifth of Jack. A lavender thong hung from the truck's shifter, his t-shirt was twisted around his left forearm and his wrist was handcuffed to the steering wheel. So it had been yes. He opened the other eye. The 45 on the dashboard was a beauty. Black. Solid. Looked trustworthy. But seeing it there probably meant that yes should've been no. 

I Won't Stay Buried by Grant Bailie 

It's a hell of a thing to wake up dead. For one thing, you don't notice right away. You’d think you would, but you don’t. And there's that taste in your mouth, but there are ways to explain that: you might have smoked too much on Sunday night, or had three too many gin and tonics. It could be gingivitis or halitosis. The point is, there are plenty of ways for someone’s mouth to taste like death. On the morning it happened to me, I was dressed and almost out the door when I became aware of a peculiar sensation. There was a profound and internal stillness. Nothing inside me was moving.

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