“I wrap my bravado in ribbons of tendons and bruise-kissed skin and even that is not enough of an offering”
Hello. I’m Tanya. Made in Ireland, I now share a home in Scotland with my husband, our cat with entitlement issues, and an albino axolotl with a double-barrel surname.
I tell stories inspired by city streets and stormy seas, synaesthesia and l’appel du vide, violent pasts and wide open futures. I run on coffee and have a weakness for fountain pens, expertly choreographed fight scenes, and extremely clean kitchens.
My current project is a neo(n)-noir cyberpunk-ish probably-trilogy. I won’t go as far as to say I have a release date in mind because it’s still early days, but I’m tentatively considering publication in 2021. In the meantime, you’re very welcome to download my free books and read some short stories right here.
A novel | 2019
One month, one city, five lives colliding with the forces of fate. A thrill-seeking tech genius with an appetite for dangerous extremes. A retired contract killer fighting to escape his past and himself. An underworld driver tempted deeper into a life of violence. A heartbroken musician lost in hedonistic free fall. A soldier burdened with prophecy who only wants to go home. Dark, dark days. Beginnings…
A novella | 2018
The year 2027. Edinburgh, Scotland. Disease has swept a deadly path through society. A nightlife mogul with a violent past, a sadistic drug dealer, an artist craving companionship, a privileged playboy and a fiercely independent motor mechanic struggle to survive in the chaotic and brutal leftover world of the immune.
Stone Flowers Grow in Cold Places
A novella | 2017
When a robbery takes an unexpected turn, part-time criminal Andie Valentine is forced to make a difficult choice: dive deeper into a dangerous but lucrative world or escape to a new beginning, abandoning her home in Edinburgh and her last connection to the girl who changed her life and shattered her heart.
It grew, it bloomed, and I should have cut it back, but there was poetry in how the flowers hid the choking.
The Latest Becoming of Death
With the noise, the heat, the sheer volume and intensity of life around us, I can almost forget who we are.
A Mountain with a Funeral Smile
It’s just how we’ve been, wandering wide circles around each other, trailing fingertips softly along boundaries.
Cigarettes as a Metaphor for Heartbreak
I pulled my sleeves down over shaking hands with chewed fingernails and tried to hate you.
Where time had hardened me, it had softened you. I had become untethered, but you had become free.
The Ninth Step
It would be easier not to be forgiven because if you could forgive me, then maybe I’d have to forgive myself.
It started when I read that 2,450 volts of electricity would be passed through my brother’s body.
Heartbled and Soulrisen
I’d waded into deep, clear water with stones and glass worn smooth, blue to pull me through and under.