Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Richard Parry on Eyeballs, Book Covers & Sex Sells @TactualRain #Fantasy #Action #AmReading

Sex sells.
The thing is, our eyeballs are attracted to shiny things.  It probably all started with the basics: does that food look good to eat?  It does make me question the good judgement of the first person to eat a mussel, but whatever: we make a lot of calls based on what we see.  Despite our great technology and evolved art, we’re still animals at the core.  We like to eat, sleep, and make baby animals.
Like I said, sex sells.
Focus, people.  Back to book covers.  This means that your cover needs to grab a browsing reader by the eyeballs, travel down the optic nerve, and hunt around a little inside their head.  We pick up so much at that first glance.  Do we like that person?  Is the colour of their tie right for their shoe choice?  Is that a… wait, is that a coffee stain on the bottom of their tie?
Damn straight we’re not going to enjoy this meeting.  You know it: we’ve turned off before we’ve started.  The guy’s a slob, and he’s got cheap shoes from a dollar store.
It’s the same with your cover.  It needs to tell an immediate story.  The font needs to be in tune with the content (and readable at tiny sizes, because eBook thumbs are not hardcovers sized!).  The picture really does need to speak a thousand words, more or less, but it also needs to be relevant.  I mean, I don’t really care what your sexual preference is, but if you were expecting to take a man home, unwrap him, and then found out he was a she, you’d be… confused.
If you’re selling a vampire book and it’s not a vampire romance, do not put a bodice-ripper cover on it.  You will get bad reviews, because it’s not what your customer expected.
Covers are vital.  They’re your beachhead into someone’s heart.

Valentine’s an ordinary guy with ordinary problems. His boss is an asshole. He’s an alcoholic. And he’s getting that middle age spread just a bit too early. One night — the one night he can’t remember — changes everything. What happened at the popular downtown bar, The Elephant Blues? Why is Biomne, the largest pharmaceutical company in the world, so interested in him — and the virus he carries? How is he getting stronger, faster, and more fit? And what’s the connection between Valentine and the criminally insane Russian, Volk?
Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Action, Thriller, Urban Fantasy
Rating – R16
More details about the author
 Connect with Richard Parry on Facebook & Twitter

Sunspots by Karen S. Bell @KarenSueBell #Romance #Fiction #BookClub

As I lie in bed with these thoughts, I finally notice that Marina has quietly come back into my room and is sitting in the armchair watching me. She offers me some more medicine and I shake my head, “no.” I don’t want to sleep, and I don’t want to be awake. There is no comfort in anything. She says, “Come. We’ll have a nice cup of tea.” And I follow her downstairs and into the kitchen, zombie-like. I watch her with dull eyes that do not see her movements as she opens cupboards and finds a teapot, cups, and tea bags. I listen with deaf ears to her hum a Russian tune. I sit patiently with no patience sipping the tea I cannot taste. In silence, we sit. In silence, we speak without speaking. Marina’s life force wills me to feel her love.

And then she tells me her plan. “Maybe, I’ll stay with you awhile. Nothing back in Brooklyn right now.” I answer, mouthing words that I want to feel and yet cannot feel because I have closed myself off to the emotions of life, “Oh yes, please stay, Marina. I couldn’t bear all this alone.” I’m overwhelmed by her generosity, my loss, and the hidden truths lurking under the surface waiting to be revealed. Then the cordoned off person inside me breaks through all my controls again and unwonted tears erupt in a torrent of suppressed anguish. I am enveloped in her arms and her soothing voice whispers calming words as I try to regain the safety of stoicism.

Marina and I, sisters of a sort, sit together in my huge kitchen, in my huge house, sharing the huge hole in my heart as my tears pour down my face, flowing as if someone has turned on a spigot. Two small souls in a too-big kitchen of a too-big house silently wondering about the business problems of which his lawyer spoke using carefully chosen words somberly executed while his eyes burned with deep meaning. Problems that would have to be sorted out after I finished sitting “Shivah.” How can one cope with all of this? When will I wake up from this nightmare?

Eventually, it is dawn and I must sit on the wooden bench that signifies my mourning as memories cloud the present and I relive a life that is no more.


Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Contemporary Romance, Magical Realism
Rating – PG-13
More details about the author

@KentBurden's #Wellness Tip to Combat 'Sitting Disease' #AmWriting #NonFiction #MustRead

As a writer you know that it takes long hours at your computer or at your writing desk to complete your master piece. Whether you’re a New York Times bestselling author or a first time novelist your chair and you have probably become very well acquainted. Of course these days it’s not just writers who spend a lot of time in the seated position.
The desk job has become the norm in America and across most of the Western world. Many of us are virtually chained to our desks, working on our computers, answering emails, teleconferencing and doing Skype meetings. For most, the only reason to get up out of our chairs is to take a quick bathroom break, and then it’s back to the desk to type up that report or send out that follow-up e-mail. According to a poll of 6,300 people by the Institute for Medicine and Public Health, Americans spend an average of 56 hours each week just sitting. That’s up by eight percent in the last twenty years. We are also contending with longer commutes to work, leaving us sitting in our car fighting traffic for longer periods of time each day, and causing us to be more sedentary than ever before.  But it’s not just our jobs that encourage all this sedentary behavior; it’s also what we do when we are off work.
If you’re a writer working on that breakout novel that will get you out of that dead end job, coming home after a hard day’s work often means sitting back down in front of your computer for three or four more hours. While this is clearly admirable and absolutely necessary to bring your dreams to life it may be playing havoc with your health.
Even if you’re not working on that novel your down time may be problematic to your activity levels. Television, or as my father so fondly called it, the “boob tube,” has been a favorite after-work pastime since the 1950s. Today, Americans spend 151 hours every month watching television, and most of that time is spent sitting down. Each year the entertainment industry is coming up with more and more reasons for us to have a seat and enjoy an ever-widening variety of entertainment options. My satellite provider boasts more than 250 channels including music, sports and movies along with all the network and cable offerings. That’s more than enough to keep the average American glued to the couch almost every night of the week. With websites like Hulu you can stream current and past TV shows at your convenience; add to that video games, social networking sites like Facebook, My Space, Twitter and LinkedIn, and you can see why many of us seem to be growing roots from our butts deep into the couch.
What’s the big deal you say? So we spend a little more time sitting around. It can’t be that bad for us can it? The answer to that question is yes it can. Is your chair killing you? All the latest research says yes. According new studies from places like the Mayo clinic, Harvard University, Louisiana State Universities Pennington Biomedical research Center, University of Sydney in Australia and the University of Hong Kong in China point to increased health risks to people who sit for extended periods of time. By simply sitting too much you significantly raise your risk of getting lifestyle diseases like diabetes, heart disease, kidney disease, stroke, obesity and certain forms of cancer. Even worse doing 30-60 minutes of exercise a day won’t undo the damage that too much sitting causes.
All this might seem like very bad news. I mean, if sitting for long periods of time is deadly and exercise won’t save us then we’re doomed, doomed I tell you!
Whoa…dial it back my pessimistic friend, because the solution is actually incredibly simple. In my book Is Your Chair Killing You? I show you just how to combat sitting disease and improve your health and help you lose weight. Best of all the cure is actually super easy, can be done almost anywhere and takes as little as 8 minutes a day. In this ground breaking book you will learn how to stay active all day long and still be productive and actually improve creativity. So buy Is Your Chair Killing You? and you can finish that novel and still live long enough to enjoy the fruits of your labors.
Sitting for extended periods of time is as bad for your health as smoking cigarettes. And exercising for 30-60 minutes a day isn’t enough to undo the damage from extended periods of sitting. Is Your Chair Killing You reveals shocking new research showing that sitting for long periods greatly increases your risk of developing obesity, heart disease, diabetes, stroke and cancer. Our bodies were designed to move constantly over the course of the day, but most of us sit for hours a day at work and at home! Fitness and wellness expert and award-winning author Kent Burden has created brief, simple movements you can incorporate into your daily life to combat the damaging effects of sitting. These simple movements, done standing for 1-5 minutes each hour will burn calories, energize and refresh you, and you won’t even break a sweat; you’ll even improve your back pain. This book is a how-to for weight loss and disease prevention. Read this book–you’ll be healthier in as little as 8 minutes a day.
Nominated for the Dan Poynter Global Ebook Awards and won honorable mention at the Los Angeles Book Festival
Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Non-Fiction
Rating – G
More details about the author
Connect with Kent Burden on Facebook & Twitter
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Tuesday, June 17, 2014

@CarinKilbyClark on Attending Writing Conferences #AmWriting #NonFiction #Parenting

Ever since I started writing, one of the things that came up is whether I should go to a conference. For writers, for bloggers, for entrepreneurs – there are more conferences than I could ever hope to attend. Last year I attended a conference for bloggers and business owners, and was a little nervous with it being my first one. There was a lot of pre-conference conversation around what to wear, how to interact, whom to meet and network with.
One of the things I decided to do was not put too much thought into it. I was going to be myself and just have fun. Which is exactly what I did; and it was the most successful strategy I could’ve had. This year, I’m attending a total of three conferences. And while I’m no expert, I do think there are some key actions that can make anyone’s conference experience more than worthwhile.
How to put your best foot forward at conferences:
Put your best foot forward at conferences by dressing to impress. Whatever impression it is that you want to make, dress accordingly. I like to present myself as super professional but fun too. So, I normally choose clothing that will best display that side of me. As they say, you only get one chance to make a first impression – and while many of the people you will meet at conferences are folks that you have likely interacted with on the interwebs, it’s important that your in-person persona be someone to remember (in a good way, of course!).
Put your best foot forward at conferences by remembering that they are all just like you. When you attend a conference where you are potentially meeting and interacting with influencers and experts in your niche, it’s easy to go into celebrity mode. But it’s important to remember that they are all people. Just. Like. You. So treat them the way you want to be treated, and do not go into a fan-crazed state.
Put your best foot forward at conferences by being yourself. This is so important and can be hard for people when they are trying desperately to impress. But you must remember to be yourself. Don’t make up erroneous facts, don’t go out of your way to tell jokes or stories (unless it’s your truth), and don’t ever pretend to be something or someone that you aren’t. Remember that the people you click with naturally are the ones that you want to know. You don’t have to be anyone but you in order to make that happen.
Carin Kilby Clark is the author of the ebook, Time Management Made Easy for Busy Moms: 5 Simple Tips on How to Control Your Time and Get Things Done (April 2014, Clue Consulting, LLC). If you want to learn how to finally put time on your side, then this book has the goods that you need – and for less than the cost of a cup of coffee. Buy your copy today!

Do any of these excuses sound familiar?

I’m just too busy
I have too much on my plate
There’s never enough time
I have to do it all
I don’t know how to manage it all

If you answered yes, then prepare to put an end to the overwhelm once and for all. In Time Management Made Easy for Busy Moms, Carin Kilby Clark shares five simple tips that moms can implement right away to improve how they control their time and get things done.

Time Management Made Easy for Busy Moms offers insight into the one major block that prevents us from maximizing our time, gives readers practical information that is easily applied to everyday life, and helps you along the path to your “aha” moments about how and why you’ve been ineffective in managing your time; and how to to finally put time in its rightful place {on your side, of course!}.

As the mother of three very active children who also works full-time, runs a business in her “spare” time, publishes a lifestyle & parenting site, manages a growing motherhood community, and regularly contributes parenting advice to many popular sites in the parenting/family life niche, Carin’s advice is solid; based on methods that she has successfully implemented in controlling her time and getting things done.
Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Parenting, Relationships
Rating – G
More details about the author
Connect with Carin Kilby Clark on Facebook & Twitter

Friday, June 13, 2014

Rainy Kaye Shares an #Excerpt from SUMMONED @rainyofthedark #Paranormal #MustRead

“So, what’s your name?” I sit straight in my chair, hoping I don’t look too intoxicated.
Which I am, of course. Probably a good idea to lay off the alcohol for a bit.
“Syd.” Her phone buzzes, and she picks it back up.
Her nails are painted different colors and designs. A small black star is tattooed on the knuckle of her ring finger. Wonder if she would let me play scavenger hunt for the rest of the ink on her body. I promise to be thorough.
She frowns at her phone.
“Stood up?”
“Yeah. Hey, look, I’m gonna go pay for my drink and head out.” She reaches down for her purse as she stands.
I sit forward. “Why? Where you gonna go?”
She shrugs one shoulder, her gaze scanning the bar and her frown deepening. “A club, probably.”
“People still go to those?” I shake my head.
She lowers her gaze to me. “Well, people who can’t stand all the excitement here, I guess.”
I laugh. “Okay, fair enough. Finish your coke first?”
She glances at her drink, then settles into her chair again.
“I’m Dimitri.” I lean back and continue to ignore my drink. “And, for the record, I rarely come here. Just glad someone else who doesn’t have great-grandchildren found their way to this crap hole.”
Her expression and shoulders relax. She takes a drink. “Dimitri. That’s Russian, right?”
“Nah, Greek. I think.”
“You’re Greek?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” I give in and chug my rum and coke.
“Ah, well, my family is Irish and some Arabic,” she says.
Comparing ancestry reports is not what I have in mind.
She continues. “So, what do you do for a living?”
“Private armed security,” I say. My usual ansawer. It’s not entirely dishonest, and it also helps explain my arsenal if a woman happens to see it between the front door and bedroom. I try to guide the conversation back in the right direction. “You live in Phoenix or just passing through?”
“Live here,” she says.
Damn. Tourists are easier to convince into a wild night.
She glances at her phone and frowns again. She isn’t impressed with me whatsoever. I probably should just let her go, but I only have twenty-four hours to catch and release.
And now parts of me are riled up. I really would like to find the rest of her tattoos.
Might as well go all-in.
“Yeah, I live here too,” I say, “and I think it’s very important to know thy neighbor.”
She sizes me up. “Don’t you mean, ‘love thy neighbor’?”
I smile at her. “I’m willing if you are.”
Her eyes glint as she leans forward. “Oh, thank god. I thought we were going to talk about our family history all night or some shit.”
And just like that, it is time to go tattoo hunting.

Twenty-three year old Dimitri has to do what he is told—literally. Controlled by a paranormal bond, he is forced to use his wits to fulfill unlimited deadly wishes made by multimillionaire Karl Walker.
Dimitri has no idea how his family line became trapped in the genie bond. He just knows resisting has never ended well. When he meets Syd—assertive, sexy, intelligent Syd—he becomes determined to make her his own. Except Karl has ensured Dimitri can’t tell anyone about the bond, and Syd isn’t the type to tolerate secrets.
Then Karl starts sending him away on back-to-back wishes. Unable to balance love and lies, Dimitri sets out to uncover Karl’s ultimate plan and put it to an end. But doing so forces him to confront the one wish he never saw coming—the wish that will destroy him.
Summoned is represented by Rossano Trentin of TZLA.
Author Bio
Rainy Kaye is an aspiring overlord. In the mean time, she blogs at <a href=></a> and writes paranormal novels from her lair somewhere in Phoenix, Arizona. When not plotting world domination, she enjoys getting lost around the globe, studying music so she can sing along with symphonic metal bands, and becoming distracted by Twitter (<a href=>@rainyofthedark</a>).She is represented by Rossano Trentin of TZLA.
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NGHT'S FAVOUR by Richard Parry @TactualRain #AmReading #Thriller #Fantasy

“I’m still sweating.”  Val pulled his wet shirt away from his skin.  Much as he had to admit that transparent shirts on a fat guy looked bad, he’d carried his jacket rather than putting it on.  A light breeze was nudging against the fabric.  “I thought a cold shower after the gym would help.  This isn’t selling it for me.”
“That’s a mark of pride, buddy.  Just don’t get too close to me.”  John grimaced.  “Did you use deodorant?”
“Wait.  I can’t remember.”  Val sniffed under his arms.  “Yeah.  Smells like Axe.  I’ll probably sweat it off, but my intentions were pure.”
“No doubt.  You did good today.  Really good.”  John seemed distracted — he wasn’t checking out the women on the street, and he wasn’t really paying attention to where he was walking.  His phone had rung a couple of times, and he’d just ignored it.  John, the man whose digits were in more single women’s phones than anyone else alive, was ignoring his phone.
It was uncanny.
“You don’t sound like I did good.  You sound like we’re discussing my funeral.”  When he’d been a kid, Val had come off his bike.  He’d fallen a long way down a bank, rolling a couple times before the bike had caught up with him.  The tumbled images of earth and sky along with the taste of green grass and dirt in his mouth stayed with him.  He remembered the clank of the bike following him down, banging its way through the brush.  He’d wrenched his shoulder pretty badly.  Nothing serious, the doctor had said.  Rest it, it’ll be fine.  They say you don’t remember pain, but he swore this felt the same.  Wincing, he rubbed his shoulder.  “Damn.”
“Well, shit.  Ok.  Give me a minute.  I think I need to break this down for you.”  John continued on a few more paces, then stopped.  A couple of women almost walked into him, veering at the last minute.  One gave him a look over her shoulder as she passed.  He didn’t even notice.  “Look.  So you benched a lot today.”
“Dude, you just got a hair flick.”
“What?”  John looked around, but she was long gone.  “Was she hot?”
“I dunno.  I guess.  It felt like a lot.  Man, I’ve never hurt this bad.”  A memory came, stark against the mundane street around him.  She’d been bleeding so bad.  He could remember that damn headlight shining in his face through her shattered passenger window.  “Except maybe after the accident.”
John didn’t seem to notice the reference, focused on something different.  “Do you know how much is, ‘A lot?’”
“I dunno.  You said it was more than you could bench, but I figured that for a sort of motivational speech.  So I guess maybe less than you, sure, but a lot, right?”
John just stared at him.
“What?  Man, say something.”  Val looked around the street.  “What!”
“Ok, stupid, we’ll play it your way.  Today, you benched around six hundred and fifty pounds.  Maybe a bit more, a bit less.”  John slapped the mixed roll of cash his back pocket.  “It’s what’s buying the beers tonight.  That six fifty press.”
“I guess that sounds like a lot.  But it’s all Smurfberries to me.”  Something else was hurting in his back.  Val arched, trying to work the kink out.  This is why exercise isn’t more popular — it hurts too damn much.  You could read it in the papers: man killed riding a bike.  You never read about a man killed sitting on a couch.
“Smurfberries?  Are you on coke?”  John looked him in the eye.  “You can tell me.”
Val snorted.  “I’ve only got a thirst for Jack.  There’s this iPhone app, Smurf Village.”
“I don’t see where you’re going with this.”
“Give me a sec.  I’m trying to play your six fifty pounds game.  Trying to get it in my head, ok?  So in this app —”
“Smurf Village.”
“You got it.  In Smurf Village, you can build houses, go fishing, whatever.  I don’t know, bang Smurfette, whatever you want.”  Val frowned.  “Ok maybe not that, it’s for kids.  But the game’s free, except it’s not.”
“Smurfette’s a hooker, right?”
“You’re on the right track John, but it’s a kid’s game for fuck’s sake.  You need to work that out somehow, it’s creepy.  You can play the game, but you can sort of… I don’t know, incentivise your Smurfs.  Buy them Smurfberries.  And Smurfberries come right off your Mastercard.”
“So what’s a Smurfberry get me?”
Val clapped his hands together.  “Exactly.  We know how much a Smurfberry costs, because those thieving bastards charge your Mastercard for them.  But before you go in, before little Johnny —”
John winced.  “Jemima, please.”
“Sure.”  Val nodded.  “Before little Jemima gets hooked on the game crack that Smurf Village is, you’ve no clue as a consenting parent what a Smurfberry costs.  So when Jemima comes in and bothers you in front of the big game, asking for twenty bucks for some more Smurfberries, what do you do?”
“I dunno.”  John rubbed his chin.  “The big game.  Is it half time?  Does she leave me alone for another half hour?  I might pay twenty bucks for that.”
“Sure you might.  But that’s the thing.  You just don’t know.  It’s like any other arbitrary measurement, like —”  Val waved his hands in the air.  “Like, I guess, a megawatt hour, or a megabyte maybe.”
“I know what a megabyte is.  I work in a gym, but I’m not prehistoric.”
“Ok wise guy.  What’s a megabyte?”
“It’s, well…”  John trailed off, then tried to man up to the challenge.  “It’s a bunch of emails.”
“How many?”
“A lot?”
“Is six hundred and fifty pounds a lot?”
“You fucker.”
Val nodded.  “You see, I know what a megabyte is, and I might even be able to work out what a Smurfberry is worth.  I know cheese comes in pounds.  I can maybe imagine a six fifty pile of cheese, but I don’t know.  Is that a lot?”
“Seriously, you’re an asshole.”  John turned away and started checking out the talent, looking for the next hair flick.
Val dragged him back with a pat on the shoulder.  “Can an ordinary dude lift six fifty pounds worth of cheese?  I mean, it’s not something I’ve tried.”
“Fair enough.  Ok.  You got me.”  John walked on a few more paces.  “Here we go.  You know a guy called Scot Mendelson?”
“Does he work with you?”
“I wish.  Scot holds the current world record for the raw bench.”
“Raw?”  It’d been a while since meals.  “Like, uncooked?”
“Raw, like unassisted.”
Val gave John a blank look.  “How can you assist a guy on the bench?  Are there two guys pushing up?  One pulling from above?”
“It’s not important.  Well, it’s a little bit important, because you strap on a special shirt, and you can lift more.  But the raw bench is where it’s at, ok?”  John watched a woman walk past, head tracking as she sashayed past him.  “Ah.  So Scot, he’s the world record holder.”
“I know you’re dying to tell me.  What’s his record?  A thousand?”
“Not even close.  You need to think much, much lower.”
“Eight hundred?  We can play this game all day.  You should just tell me, since I made you famous on YouTube today.”
“We should probably get you a beer first.  Make sure you’re sitting down.”  John patted the wad of cash in his pocket again.  “You’re going to need to be lubricated for this one.”
“Now you’re scaring me.  What’s his fucking record?”
“Seven hundred.”  John paused, every so slightly — damn drama queen.  “And one.  Seven oh one pounds.  Dude’s been powerlifting his whole life, he’s a real significant piece of machinery, and he benches just fifty pounds more than you.”
Val stopped so suddenly the guy behind him on the sidewalk walked right into the back of him.  He turned and stared at John.  “You’re just trying to make me feel better for hurling at the gym.”
“I’m really not.  I had to clean that up.”  John rubbed the designer stubble on his jaw.  “Look, you did an amazing thing today.  Really, truly amazing.  So amazing, you shouldn’t have been able to do it.  I’m sort of impressed, but I’m wondering when the guy from Candid Camera is going to come out and have me on.  What you did, well, it’s a bit like the Coyote finally catching the Road Runner.  It breaks all the rules.”
Val laughed, a slightly weak and hysterical sound.  “You know me.  I just keep breaking rules.”  He swayed a little, then leaned against a parking meter.
John slapped him on the arm.  “It’s ok man.  You did good.  I just — I just can’t really believe it.  Even now.  I think I need that beer more than you do.”
“There’s one thing I don’t get.”
“Just one thing?  What is it?”
“Your friend, the guy who was there?”
“Sure, I guess.  Why’d he back me to six fifty?”
“Emilio’s crazy.”
“He bet a hundred bucks — our drinking money — that I’d bench six fifty.  Just fifty shy of Scot Wosshisname’s record.”  Val stared into the sky for a second, then back to John.  “If I was a judge of character, I reckon Emilio’s rigged this.”
“Maybe.  He’s coming down to drink with us tonight, so you can ask him then.  Since we’re sharing though, there’s one thing that I don’t get.”
Val stood up, pushing his bulk away from the parking meter.  “What?  I’m really thirsty.  It’s kind of inhumane keeping me out here like this.”
“How do you know what a Smurfberry is?”
Val chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment.  “That can’t be what you want to know.”
“No, I really want to know.  You’ve got no kids —”  And there was that damn memory again, burning as bright as the headlight through the shattered passenger window.  Rebekah was looking right at him, grasping his arm.  She was begging him to not leave her, What about the baby, she’d said.  “— But you know what a Smurfberry is.”
Val shook off the memory.  Just a dead relic.  “Let’s get that beer.”

Valentine’s an ordinary guy with ordinary problems. His boss is an asshole. He’s an alcoholic. And he’s getting that middle age spread just a bit too early. One night — the one night he can’t remember — changes everything. What happened at the popular downtown bar, The Elephant Blues? Why is Biomne, the largest pharmaceutical company in the world, so interested in him — and the virus he carries? How is he getting stronger, faster, and more fit? And what’s the connection between Valentine and the criminally insane Russian, Volk?
Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Action, Thriller, Urban Fantasy
Rating – R16
More details about the author
 Connect with Richard Parry on Facebook & Twitter

Saturday, June 7, 2014

A Day in the Life of Ted Tayler (Unfinished Business) #AmReading #Thriller #BookClub

Friday 14th March 7am:- Awake early; why did I hear an alarm clock? Oh yes, I remember now, daughter Kim and her husband Mal arrived yesterday afternoon from Wales. He’s taking her car over to a garage six miles away for an annual service. They took us out to dinner last night at a local restaurant and stayed over because the car is booked in for eight o’clock. Why does that need me to be awake at such an ungodly hour! Turn over and try to go back to sleep.
It’s now half past seven and Kim is in the shower. I’m awake again! Grumpy, so I may as well get up. Mal has left already because the fog is pretty thick this morning. Nobody else seems keen on breakfast so I get myself a cup of coffee and a bowl of porridge. Bailey, their dog comes across to see if there’s anything on offer. He gets short shrift. The bathroom is now free! I shower and get dressed. When I get back downstairs Lynne and Kim are watching TV; not a channel I spend any time on! Let’s get cracking on the computer then. I check a dozen emails, drop into Twitter and Facebook, and do a bit of housekeeping on my website. It might be time to start work on my Orangeberry Guest Posts.
Completed ’10 Things’ about me; almost ran out of ideas and resorted to putting ‘I can’t count’ down for number 10 but suddenly had an inspiration. The girls are still glued to the TV. I get my coat; it must be my turn to go for the papers again. The fog is thinning, with luck it will be clear by the time Mal & Kim drive back to Wales later. I pick up the papers from the nearest garage. When I get back the girls want to have first look, so I get back to work on my posts. Mal returns with a clean bill of health about eleven o’clock. For the car that is. An hour later they’re all packed up and we’re waving the three of them off as they make their way home. Two people wave back; Bailey wags his tail.
I break for lunch at one o’clock and spend an hour with Lynne in conversation about the weekend. Will we see our other two children and the grandkids? Will we be able to get out in the garden and do some more tidying up? What did we say we were going to have for dinner on Sunday? Where is that in the freezer? Will I need to go rooting about in there tonight or tomorrow morning to track it down?
Lynne goes into town to pick up a few things we didn’t get yesterday when we did our ‘big’ shop. I get back to writing. Time passes; the light is fading. Lynne has been back for a while but no sign of any reviving cup of coffee. Oh well, let’s call it quits for this afternoon. Heck! It’s almost six o’clock. That’s enough writing for today. Just about five hours completed. Another couple of items ticked off the list.
Downstairs in the kitchen I think about dinner; then I start cooking it. Lynne and I eat about seven and then we watch some early evening television together with a glass of wine. We’ve both been up since ‘silly o’clock’ and Lynne is flagging. She decides to have an early night. I tell her I’ll see her in the morning. I get ready to go out. It’s Friday night after all! There’s a new band I haven’t heard on at the pub in town. A couple of hours until the early morning with my friend Jack (Daniels) listening to their set and then I can get up later tomorrow morning to post my review.
Friday 10pm – that’s all folks! I’m off to the pub. Sleep well!

The sequel to the award winning ‘The Final Straw’ sees Colin Bailey return to the UK after almost a decade abroad. With a new name and a new face he still has scores to settle. His meticulous planning takes him ingeniously across Scotland and the North of England ticking names off his list with the police completely baffled. 

DCI Phil Hounsell pitted his wits against Colin before and so he is sent to Durham where he teams up with super intelligent young DS Zara Wheeler; together they track their man to Manchester and then eventually south to Bath. 

The final scenes take place on the streets of the Roman city; Phil Hounsell’s family is threatened and in a dramatic conclusion reminiscent of Holmes and Moriarty at the Reichenbach Falls, the two men struggle above the foaming waters of the historic Pulteney weir. 
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Genre – Thriller
Rating – PG-18
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