Shotgun Honey is pleased to release DAYDREAM BELIEVERS: Crime Stories Inspired by the Songs of The Monkees! edited by Lawrence Allan and Michelle Kubitz. This thrilling collection of stories that e…

Monterey Bay, 1942. The ocean is rough, the pay is thin, and commercial fisherman Gene Ackerly is just trying to stay afloat. But when his crewmate murders a G.I. during a drunken brawl, Gene makes…

She hadn’t meant to be late for the assignment. Wasn’t her fault the crash on the bridge backed traffic for over an hour. Impossible to move forward, impossible to go back. But Leon never saw it th…

Harley glanced from the whirring printer to the room’s lone window. Beneath a silvered moon, the lake was mercury. With a grinding whine, the printer jammed. He swore. It figured. This was one of m…

People say they never forget a face. If that’s all they remembered, I’d be golden.Appearances are easy to change—contacts, hair dye, wigs. Faces are costumes. That day at the bank, even my mother w…

Daniel Brown was born with the face only a mother could love and his mother couldn’t much stand to look at him either. This constant scrutiny of his looks brought out over-the-top physical acts of …

On Monday, the used car salesman with the gold tooth disappeared. Marty would tell everyone he knew nothing of it. -I didn’t even know he had a gold tooth. And Marty would be a shoulder for the gri…

The full moon hung fat and drunk in the sky. Under its light, the frozen lake looked like tequila served in a dirty glass. The butcher Sylvester Fantone ran across the ice giving chase to a no-good…

Step into the gritty world of professional wrestling with Jason Ridler’s newest release, Dead in the Ring. This high-octane noir plunges readers into the “squared circle,” where the scr…

Back up against the alley wall. One way in and out. Everything is red. I drop the backpack with the twenty grand. Gut shot, so what’s the point? I’m not spending any of it. I’m lucky if I have five…

Beau Johnson has been a prolific contributor to Shotgun Honey fiction going back to Coffee, Tea and Me. It's been an honor to host over a dozen of Beau's stories, many which include his notorious vigilante Bishop Rider. Much like his anti-hero protagonist, Beau has been vigilant in his writing so much so that he has produced eight collections, seven published and the latest debuting next year, and not to mention an anthology based on Bishop Rider.

You may have noticed Shotgun Honey has been on a bit of a hiatus the last 3 months. Part of that was to give the site a much needed restructuring, clean up, and a pretty facelift for the start of our 15th anniversary. Of course, best laid plans and all that.. the updated site is not quite ready for primetime. Soon.

It’s over. We all heard the shots. Two, one right after the other. It’s Christmas Eve and the street surges with holiday shoppers, protecting you in their midst, a gathering the cops ignore. Those of us gawping form a semi-circle around the glass doors of the bank, a rapt audience. Our stomach-churning, naked curiosity is understandable, even welcome. Somebody says,

Rawls walked out of the joint the week before Christmas. Cold wind fixing to edge more lines into his face. Chrissy was waiting for him leaning against her car, still looking mighty fine. She’d been visiting him inside all the time, but seeing her outside was different. Sure, parts of her seemed more susceptible to gravity than before—but that didn’t bother him much.

In 2013, Shotgun Honey launched its first imprint, One Eye Press. The idea was to offer a line of novellas and short story collections, and our own anthology series Shotgun Honey Presents. That imprin...

Who am I? Call me Charlie. When people need something to go away, I’m the guy they call. Blood, bodies, punk bitches, and snitches. I take care of it all—one-stop shop to make lives easier or make lives end. Just gotta pay me. And keep your fucking mouth shut. I don’t market myself. I don’t put cryptic ads on Craigslist. Don’t need to.

ALT: a puppet wearing a chef 's hat looks out of a window

You head to his house with intention, approachin’ it all sneakin’ and surprise like. Cut your chopper bike’s engine down the end of the street. You go in the way you have your entire life: hot. Push his rotted door open like it's your own. You carry a heavy case. His narrowed eyes, his tight mouth, tell you it would’ a been smarter to carry what’s inside the case in your waistband, or hand.

“It’s tight,” Denny Cullen said, picking at the polyester blindfold that cut into the soft skin under his eyes like a noose. Wink Easman stood behind Denny, his wide frame and swollen belly pressing against the younger man’s back as he fixed the knot of the blindfold and patted him on the shoulders like a coach attempting to soothe a rookie quarterback.

YouTube video by Stories With Brisco And Bradshaw

Ryan stood next to the open casket, waiting for his older brother, Paul, who hadn’t shown up yet. The room, with its yellow walls and lights that were too bright for the occasion, was crowded. A group of his father’s friends from the retirement community, clustered in chairs, reminisced about Joseph Granger, the tall man who made them laugh. Former schoolmates of Ryan’s huddled in the back, laughing about old times.

Come gather round me, I’ll tell you the taleof the Haint Hound Killer, what come from La ValeThree nights he rode horseback, up from Cumberland waythree nights of the Haint Hound’s howlin’ and bay I could feel him comin’ in the way the wind blew. The sparrow’s flight told me it’d not be long before I was discovered.

When we moved to the new cave, Dook became my first and best homie. My tribe bounced around a lot, trying to dodge the cold and get grub, you know? When we found this cave, Dad was stoked. Then, we found this whole other tribe already living there. A small one, but, like, seriously? They were short, stocky, had, like, the biggest brows I’d ever seen.

We a pleased to release WHAT THE RAIN REVEALS by Ken Brosky. A story of loss and mystery set in What to Expect inside... In the Driftless Area of Wisconsin, where rolling hills and hidden valleys guard secrets as old as the land itself, a missing child’s case threatens to slip into oblivion. The leads have dried up. County resources are stretched thin.

In the Driftless Area of Wisconsin, where rolling hills and hidden valleys guard secrets as old as the land itself, a missing child’s case threatens to slip into oblivion. The leads have dried up. …

Sloane and Jess were at a laundromat in a strip mall in North El Paso wearing clothes that belonged to a dead man and watching their jeans run through the spin cycle. The sun was up and the sky looked big the way it can in certain parts of Texas. It was filled with smoke from the wildfires raging to the northeast of the city.

A Guest Post by Author M.E. Proctor

Here I am—another beat city bloke emerging from the London tube. I breathe out the soot and engine grease I’ve inhaled underground, and queue up for my morning dose of americano with extra shot of depresso. Busy station—cafes and bakeries, mechanical voice soundtrack and miserable commuters dragging themselves to be swallowed by glitzy office blocks for the next nine hours.