Tag Archives: prologue

#blogtour ‘The Family Lie’ by @PLKane1

Thank you to HQ and P L Kane for inviting me to take part in the blog tour for Paul’s latest novel: ‘The Family Lie‘. I’m thrilled to be sharing the prologue of the novel with you today.

P L KANE is the pseudonym of a #1 bestselling and award-winning author and editor, who has had over a hundred books published in the fields of SF, YA and Horror/Dark Fantasy. In terms of crime fiction, previous books include the novels ‘Her Last Secret‘ and ‘Her Husband’s Grave‘ (a sell-out on Waterstones online and Amazon), the collection ‘Nailbiters’ and the anthology ‘Exit Wounds‘, which contains stories by the likes of Lee Child, Dean Koontz, Val McDermid and Dennis Lehane.

Kane has been a guest at many events and conventions, and has had work optioned and adapted for film and television (including by Lionsgate/NBC, for primetime US network TV). Several of Kane’s stories have been turned into short movies and Loose Cannon Films/Hydra Films recently adapted ‘Men of the Cloth’ into a feature, ‘Sacrifice‘, starring Barbara Crampton (‘You’re Next) which sold to Epic Pictures/101 Films.

Kane’s audio drama work for places such as Bafflegab and Spiteful Puppet/ITV features the acting talents of people like Tom Meeten (‘The Ghoul‘), Neve McIntosh (‘Doctor Who’ / ‘Shetland’), Alice Lowe (‘Prevenge‘) and Ian Ogilvy (‘Return of the Saint’). Visit Paul’s website for more details. 

Vic x

The Family Lie

Prologue

It was the noises outside that woke them. Woke him

Noises outside the tent they were sharing, camping in the woods, part of the region known as Green Acres. Todd had woken first, sitting bolt upright when he became aware of the sounds – of someone . . .  something out there in the undergrowth. The snapping of twigs on the ground, the swish of leaves and branches being pushed aside. He glanced across at Candice in the dimness, tucked up in the sleeping bag beside him. She was just starting to stir, though whether it was because of his movements or the ones not far away beyond the thin material surrounding them was unclear. 

‘D-Did you hear that?’ Todd asked her, trying and failing to say it without his voice cracking. 

Bleary-eyed, Candice gaped at him. ‘What time is it?’ 

Todd had no idea. Late. Middle of the night. It only felt like he’d been asleep for a few minutes, having taken ages to drop off in the first place. Candice, on the other hand, had been fast asleep as soon as her head hit the inflatable pillow. And, in lieu of any kind of proper rest, he’d simply watched her by the light of the small battery-powered lamp before he’d had to turn it off, as she breathed in and out softly. That beautiful face, skin the colour of caramel, jet-black hair that hung in ringlets, Todd reckoned he was pretty much the luckiest man alive. And not for the first time he wondered just how he’d managed to end up with her. 

They’d met at uni, both studying psychology – a class taught by one Dr Robyn Adams, who worked with the police on certain cases so was a bit of a celebrity on campus. They’d been best friends first, then it had developed into something more. And when they’d finished their course, he’d suggested this holiday because who knew where they’d end up in the future. Something cheap, because they were skint, and he knew Candice loved the outdoors. They could go on walks in the daytime, cook on an open fire and eat under the stars. Didn’t get much more romantic than that.

And at night-time, snuggle up in a sleeping bag and . . . well, you know. 

Hadn’t exactly turned out the way he’d imagined though, had it? First, they’d spotted those creepy-looking folk out and about, when they’d been searching for somewhere to set up camp. Just two or three of them out for a walk in nature probably – but they’d all been wearing the same thing, those weird cream-coloured tunics and trousers. 

‘They look like they’re in a cult or something,’ Candice had joked, fan of horror movies that she was. ‘Probably doing a bit of Devil worshipping!’ But Todd hadn’t found it funny. Hadn’t found it funny at all and was glad when they’d passed by out of sight. 

Then there was getting stung by that wasp which apparently set a precedence. Everything that walked, flew or crawled in those woods seemed to have it in for Todd, it was like they knew he wasn’t used to being out here. He was also absolutely knackered, had barely slept since they got here – and not in the fun way. Todd just found it so hard to drift off with all the strange noises around him, was too much of a city boy he guessed; and this was just such a long way from it all. The sounds of nature were louder in his own skull than the hum of traffic and buzz of people he’d grown used to. More alien to him than anything, though nothing like the noises that particular night. 

‘Listen!’ he whispered to Candice. 

‘What . . . ?’ she answered, looking for her phone so she could find out the time, flicking on the light. ‘I can’t hear anything.’ 

‘There!’ said Todd, who could distinctly hear something stumbling about outside. Maybe it was those people in tunics back again?

‘It’s just the sounds of the woods, babe,’ Candice told him. The same thing she’d been saying for ages. ‘Probably a deer or something.’

‘A deer?’ He was aware he wasn’t really coming off as manly by this point, but the thought of something trampling their tent with them inside it wasn’t exactly relaxing. 

Candice couldn’t keep the grin from her face. ‘Yeah, you know. A deer. Don’t worry about it. Won’t hurt you.’

‘Doesn’t sound like a deer to me,’ he informed her. And it didn’t. It sounded bigger than that kind of animal. What if it was something else, some other kind of wild creature? 

Something more ferocious. 

As if reading his mind, Candice said, ‘Hey, did you ever see that movie with the soldiers and the werewolves? How that started, with one of those things ripping into the tent?’ She was doing this deliberately to wind him up. Candice knew he didn’t care for those kinds of films, that he had a tendency to let his imagination run riot. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.’

Might not be a werewolf – because those didn’t exist, he wasn’t that stupid – but what if it was something else? A nutter or whatever, a crazy cabin person living in the woods with a taste for human flesh? Or a witch, like in that old found footage movie people had thought was real at the time? This place definitely had a history. And hadn’t he read somewhere it was also a UFO hotspot, out in the middle of nowhere? That there had been abductions and such? Those kinds of things he did believe in, Close Encounters and all that. Spoilt for choice with the options . . .

He thought about voicing his concerns, but he was already going down in his girlfriend’s estimation he realized. God, who’d want to be with such a wuss?

Then the noises came again and this time Candice looked up. Looked worried. ‘Now that I did hear.’ 

Thank Christ for that, it was loud enough! Sounded like Godzilla and King Kong wrestling out there. ‘What should—’

‘We should probably take a look,’ she suggested. ‘At least see what we’re dealing with.’

But what if it deals with us first? thought Todd, who’d changed his mind. He was beginning to wish this was a horror flick, because then he could simply switch it off. Or be safe in the knowledge that good triumphed over evil. Usually. 

‘Really?’ he asked. 

Candice nodded and took his hand. ‘We’ll look together.’

‘O-Okay,’ he said, voice cracking again. 

His girlfriend led the way, unzipping the tent and peering out. After a few moments, she turned and said in hushed tones, ‘I can’t see anything. Can you?’

Todd joined her and his eyes searched the space in front of him. It was pitch black out there, and he had a job even making out the shapes of trees, of branches. Maybe they should flash that phone light around, or grab the lamp? Would that attract attention? Would it be worse to see than not? ‘No, I—’

He froze, squeezing her hand. The loud rustling noises were coming again, only this time he could see the source of it. Something was lit up, stumbling through the darkness: a figure. Todd’s mind went to those UFOs again, to glowing aliens. 

More alien to him than anything. 

‘Is that . . . Jesus, Todd – I think that’s a person!’ cried Candice. ‘But what’s . . . Is that a torch they’ve got or—’

No, definitely not a torch. Because the whole figure was shining with the kind of brightness not even the strongest torch would give off. And the light was coming from everywhere at once. 

That was when he smelled it, the unmistakably sweet aroma of cooking flesh – similar to the smell of the meat they’d been cooking themselves on campfires. That they’d cooked earlier on the one outside, before making sure it was totally out. It was also then Todd realized what the figure reminded him of. Not an alien at all, but a certain figure that was thrown onto the bonfire every fifth of November in this country. 

Because the shape, stumbling through the undergrowth and making all that noise – looking for all the world like some kind of stuntman – was, from head to toe, on fire. Ablaze, covered totally in flames. How it was still moving was a mystery to Todd, but moving it was. Crashing on and on towards them, the noise of crackling and popping accompanying the other sounds now. 

Then all of those noises, the ones that had woken them – woken him, Todd – were drowned out by something. The sound of screaming, high-pitched and blood-curdling. 

The sounds of someone who’d finally realized, who understood now that they were being roasted alive. 

Or, more accurately, were burning to death. 

#BlogTour #IfIFall @nellbelleandme @arrowpublishing

We were told to meet at a rooftop bar.

Four friends, bound by one terrible secret.

No one knew why we were there.

Then we saw a woman, watched as she fell from the edge and plunged to her death.

The police think it’s suicide, but I know better.

Someone is sending a message.

Now they’re coming for us.

Thank you to Arrow Books and Merilyn Davies for inviting me onto the blog tour, it’s my pleasure to tell you all about If I Fall today.

Well, first off, the prologue had me hooked and then Chapter One drops the reader straight into the action and the inciting incident. Merilyn Davies has a lovely knack of setting the scene without losing pace. She drives the story forward purposefully while giving the reader plenty of information to recreate the scene in their mind.

Fans of Merilyn Davies will be familiar with DS Nell Jackson and Crime Analyst Carla Brown – If I Fall is their second outing (the first being in When I Lost You) but don’t worry if you haven’t read When I Lost You, Davies gives enough information for you to understand and empathise with these characters even if If I Fall is your first introduction to them.

By using Carla Brown’s point of view at the time of the woman’s apparent suicide, the reader feels as if they are not only at the scene of the crime with her but then also part of the subsequent investigation. I thought Carla’s insistence that this might not be suicide, and the battles she has to prove that, was a unique take on the police procedural.

The characters – and potential suspects – introduced are interesting and compelling, with the background story original and disturbing. Without giving too much away, I felt the subject tackled in this novel deserves to be widely recognised and confronted. This layered plot considers a range of themes including homelessness, revenge and sexuality. By combining all of these strands, Merilyn Davies has produced a believable novel with realistic characters.

Vic x

#BlogTour #HerHusband’sGrave by @PLKane1

It’s my pleasure today to be taking part in the blog tour for PL Kane’s ‘Her Husband’s Grave‘ by P L Kane.

A hint of gold glistened in the sand. It was a watch, no doubt about it. A watch… attached to a body.

Criminal psychologist Robyn Adams is at breaking point after a previous case resulted in an attempt on her own life. But as she sits in the car about to head home, she receives a phone call from her long lost cousin, Vicky.

Vicky’s voice cracks as she explains to Robyn that her husband, Simon, has been found buried on Golden Sands beach. Desperate to help and determined not to let her last case get the better of her, Robyn returns to the coastal village where she spent summers with Vicky as a child.

Robyn knows that she has let Vicky down in the past and is set on making up for lost time. Throwing herself into the case, she combs through evidence, intent on discovering a lead that will help the local police.

But there is clearly someone who wants Robyn gone. She is convinced someone is watching her and when she begins to receive threatening notes, Robyn knows that she could be risking her life…

But Robyn won’t leave again – she owes it to Vicky to stay.

I’ve been treated to the prologue of this exciting new thriller – and here it is for you all to enjoy!

Vic x

Her Husband’s Grave
Prologue

He’d been looking for something else when he made the shocking discovery. The grisly, stomach-churning discovery that would change everything…

He had been walking along, here on the beach, looking for treasure no less – buried or otherwise – if you can believe such a thing. And he did, had done all his life. Believed the tales his father had told him about this place when he was young, about the smugglers and the pirates. Loved it when his old man had read Treasure Island to him at bedtime when he was little. 

Jeremy Platt had only recently moved back to the area, partly to keep an eye on his ageing dad now that the man’s wife, Jeremy’s mum, had passed away; partly because his own marriage to Alice – who he’d met at college in the nearby town of Mantlethorpe – had fallen apart. Now, here they both were… alone, together. 

They’d joke about it sometimes, over a pint in their local, or a game of dominoes, though their laughter would fade quite quickly. But at least they had each other, the roles reversed from when Jeremy had been little; now he had to read to his father because of his failing eyesight. Something that had put paid to the old bloke’s hobby of amateur writing, and one of the reasons why he liked to stand at the window with those binoculars, looking out over the sea. Or had done, until a couple of days ago. 

Until the heart attack. 

Jeremy had been the one to make the discovery then too, calling round early because he couldn’t reach him on the phone; all the while telling himself it was just lines down because of the storm. Instead, finding him collapsed on the floor, phone off the hook after clearly trying to reach it and ring for help. Jeremy had rung for an ambulance instead, straight away. They’d whisked him off to hospital, and there had followed an anxious few hours, waiting to hear the worst. 

When the doctor came out and told Jeremy his dad had stabilised, he’d almost hugged the fellow. ‘What he needs now, more than anything, is rest,’ the physician had said to Jeremy, ‘time to recover.’ He’d been allowed to sit by the bedside, even though Mr Platt snr was still pretty out of it – wires running in and out of him, like some kind of robot. And Jeremy had cried, watching him, realising just how frail he was for the first time. How he might lose another parent before long. 

To be honest, he’d come here today to give himself a break more than anything. The hospital had promised to call if there was any change and he could be back in no time.

So here he was, on said beach, looking for excitement, looking for treasure. Just like his old man had promised. All part of a hobby he’d taken up, something to occupy his time while he looked for – and had failed so far to find – work in the area. So, with what was left over from the redundancy package and the marital savings, he’d treated himself to a metal detector. 

Jeremy had often spotted people wandering up and down the sands, sweeping those things from left to right, and thought it looked like fun. Well, you never knew what you might find out there. The guy in the shop, that fellow with the beard and cargo trousers – front pockets bulging, so full Jeremy wondered how he walked without falling over – had done nothing to dissuade him. Had been a self-confessed expert on the subject, happy to give him lots of tips… Not to mention sell him the best detector on the market, or so he claimed: the Equinox 800 with the large coil, perfect for places like beaches. 

It had continued to rain off and on since the storm, and that made for perfect conditions as far as detecting was concerned. ‘When everything’s wet,’ the bloke from the shop had told him, ‘it soaks into the ground and helps you spot anything that’s deeper down. Ground’s had a drink, see?’

He’d also advised Jeremy not to be in a rush, to expect lots of trash. ‘95% of what you’ll find,’ cargo guy had said, simultaneously showing him how to swing the machine – not too fast and not in great arcs – ‘it’ll be junk.’ 

He hadn’t been wrong. In the months he’d been doing this, Jeremy had found enough bottle-tops to pebbledash a house, old-fashioned keys, the backs of watches, tin cans, safety pins, bits of shiny metal that looked like mirrors…

However, he’d also found enough to encourage him to carry on: toy cars (a couple of which had actually ended up being collectors’ items); an old whistle once (which he hadn’t dared blow, recalling an old ghost story he’d read in his teens); a few lighters; a couple of rings; and, though they weren’t doubloons as such, quite a few pound coins that must have fallen out of wallets, purses or pockets. The point was, he had fun while he was doing it – and at the moment he needed that, needed to take his mind off things. Off his dad lying there in bed looking like C3-PO. 

He stopped when the beeping in his earphones intensified. Jeremy stared at the screen in front of him: 12… 13… no, 14! A pretty good reading, he thought, pulling the ’phones from his ears to wear them around his neck. Bending and taking out his trowel from his pack, he placed the detector down and began digging in the spot it had indicated. What would it be this time, a gold chain perhaps? Down, down, and further down…

Jeremy stopped when he saw the metal, couldn’t help grinning to himself. The last few bits of sand he dug out with his gloved hands, fingers clawing, eager to see what it was he’d uncovered. 

He stopped when he reached it, plucked the item out and held it up in front of him – where it glinted in the early morning sun. His smiled faded. ‘Just an old ring-pull,’ he said to himself, the kind you wouldn’t get these days because they were fixed to the lid. Sighing, he bagged it anyway, to stop another hunter from making the same mistake – and to keep those beaches clean, of course. They were a far cry from what they’d been when he was a kid, or indeed when his father had been a boy, and Jeremy wasn’t even sure they deserved the name that had been given them now, their colour dull even when it hadn’t been raining. 

But it was as he’d contemplated this that he spotted it. Something in that dull sand, along the beach. Something not that well buried at all, sticking out in fact – just ripe for the taking. He looked around him, the beach deserted – though to be fair you wouldn’t really get many tourists on this stretch of it anyway. They’d stick to the main beach for swimming and so they were closer to the pier and shops. Grabbing his stuff, he clambered to his feet and started over. He couldn’t be sure what it was really, but it was glinting. 

It was metal. It was gold… Golden at any rate. 

Didn’t even need his detector this time, which was real irony for you. All that sweeping, all that beeping. The closer he got the more he saw of it, some kind of strap… a watch strap! Looked like it belonged to an expensive one, too. Just a bit of it sticking out, but there it was. 

Jeremy got down again, started to uncover the find as he had done with the ring-pull. He hadn’t been digging for long, perhaps only a few seconds, when he pulled back sharply. It was a watch strap all right, with a watch attached. But there was also skin there too.

And a wrist. 

Swallowing dryly, he moved forward again. His imagination surely, eyes playing tricks on him. He dug a little more, pulled back again. 

There was a hand attached to that wrist. A human hand. 

Jeremy hadn’t uncovered much of it, but he could tell now – and though it was at an angle, it looked for all the world like a much dryer version of The Lady in the Lake’s hand reaching up for Excalibur. Except there was no sword to catch. And this was no lady’s hand. 

He scrabbled backwards again, felt the bile rising in his mouth. That was a body, no doubt about it – and his mind flashed back to when him and his mum used to bury his dad when they went on the sands (might be burying him for real soon, a little voice whispered and he promptly ignored it). But surely nobody would have done that by accident? Left a relative here, especially in this isolated spot. 

Jeremy frowned, then reached into his pocket for his mobile. Began to dial a number. 

There you go, that same voice had told him, you wanted excitement. An adventure. He shook his head again, shook those thoughts away too. 

‘Yes, hello,’ he said when the ringing at the other end stopped and voice came on the line. Not asking for an ambulance this time, because it was far too late for that. Instead: ‘Yes, could you give me the police please.’ 

Her Husband’s Grave‘ is available now.

Review: ‘The Rave’ by Nicky Black

It’s 1989, the second Summer of Love, and Tommy Collins is doing what he does best: organising all-night raves on a shoestring, and playing a game of cat and mouse with the police. But his adversary, Detective Chief Inspector Peach, is closing in on him, and his dreams of a better life are beginning to slip through his fingers.

DCI Peach finds it all a waste of his force’s time until his teenage daughter is found unconscious at one of Tommy’s raves. Then the issue becomes personal, and Peach’s need to make Tommy pay becomes an obsession.

Set in Newcastle upon Tyne, during a moral panic, ‘The Rave‘ is a fast-paced, gritty portrayal of life on the edges of society at the end of a decade that changed Britain forever.

As with Nicky Black’s previous novel ‘The Prodigal‘, ‘The Rave‘ is set on the fictional Valley Park estate. Nicky Black captures the essence of the characters that reside within this community perfectly. They’re funny, offensive and complex – and they don’t hold back. Black uses her characters to bring light and shade to her story, showing that even the grimmest of circumstances have a vein of humour. 

Black’s narrative voice is strong, with the reader’s attention grabbed from the prologue. As a native Geordie, I loved the setting and found I could imagine ‘The Rave‘ on TV. Black has captured not only the location but also the era very well with her strong eye for detail. As the end of the book approaches and the stakes increase, so does the pace.

With an original plot and setting, as well as compelling characters, ‘The Rave‘ delivers on all fronts. 

Vic x