Noir Series E-Books Only $2.99 Each!

The entire Noir Series backlist is on sale wherever e-books are sold for just $2.99 a title through December 31, 2017!

Celebrate the Holidays with Akashic Sale Bundles!

We’re pleased to offer six sale packages just in time for the holiday rush!

Weekly Roundup for 9/13/13

Every Friday, the Akashic team highlights industry news, reviews, and features from around the web. This week’s roundup comes to you from Akashic intern Alia Maria Almeida!

“A User’s Guide to Keeping Your Kills Fresh” by Ted Anthony (from Staten Island Noir)

Now and then, there are moments in a man’s life that offer up complete clarity. They’re rare, and rarer still is the ability to recognize them. It is only the truly intelligent, self-aware man who finds himself in a moment of clarity and actually sees it for what it is—and moves forward in a productive way.

Manny Antonio was not that kind of man . . .

“Sister-in-Law” by Louisa Ermelino (from Staten Island Noir)

Get in the car.

I started to turn but there was a gun in my back or something pretending to be a gun. I faced forward. The voice was familiar, a woman’s voice, a cigarette voice. Philip Morris unfiltered. I think that’s the only way Philip Morris comes. Smoking them was a grand statement, too big for me, but if I was right about the voice then we’d shared a few together, she and I . . .

Johnny Temple, Patricia Smith Win at 2013 Edgar Awards

The 2013 Edgar Awards Banquet, held May 2nd, will honor Akashic publisher Johnny Temple and Staten Island Noir editor Patricia Smith.

SALE: Staten Island Noir only $2.99 at iTunes

Apple’s iTunes store is featuring Edgar Award nominees at discounted prices for a limited time. This includes Akashic’s own Staten Island Noir, edited by Patricia Smith, which is being offered for only $2.99! Click here to take advantage of this special offer. Staten Island Noir completes the Noir Series tour of the world’s noirest city. […]

“One Wolf, Three Sheep,” by Eddie Joyce

Matty stared out the front window of the Emerald Club, muttering curses into his coffee. On the corner opposite the bar, the Africans huddled, laughter spilling out in front of them in long, frigid plumes.

Only three this morning. The little guy was missing. Sleeping in maybe.

A low rumbling startled him. Declan had left his cell phone on the bar when he went upstairs and the goddam thing was vibrating every few minutes, skittering across the bar like a deranged metallic cricket. He glared at the phone, which soon fell silent.