An apology


Some of you may have noticed that I’ve been a little lax in posting the last week or so, compared to previously, and I’m here to apologise. I’ve been struggling with my various mental health issues recently and that’s made it difficult to find either the energy or the enthusiasm to provide regular posts while keeping up with my writing and editing.

It’s gotten to the point where I’m cringing at every loud noise from the TV and it’s taken me all day to recover from a trip to the shops this morning where I nearly had a panic attack and was left almost in tears for most of the afternoon.

To make up for this lack, I’ve decided to give you all a preview of my new book, Written In Blood, it’s been quite a while since I did so, I hope you like it.


Emily was on her bed, reading a book, one eye on the clock on her bedside cabinet so she wouldn’t be late putting the potatoes on, when she heard the vehicle pull into the yard outside. Pushing herself up, she craned her head round to look out the window to see who it was; it was too early for it to be her dad or her brother, they were unlikely to get home until just before dinner was ready to be served.

The moment she saw the Land Rover in the yard she leaped to her feet, pleased that Zack Wild had returned. As pleased as she was, she was also more than a little nervous. She knew she had caught Zack by surprise earlier, she had caught herself by surprise as well, to such an extent that she had forgotten to grab her bag when she got out of his car; she had now had enough time to think about what she had done and realise what a fool she had made of herself.

On her way out of the bedroom and down the stairs, Emily imagined the possible reasons for his return: he could be there to return her bag, or he could be there to make sure she was not going to tell anyone what had happened between them; he might even be there because he had changed his mind about what he had said earlier.

She hesitated with her hand on the front door catch, a little reluctant to open the door and discover how her next encounter with Zack Wild was going to go. After almost half a minute had passed, she took a deep breath, summoned her courage, and opened the door so she could step out into the yard.

Zack was nowhere to be seen. Emily had thought to find him outside the front door, about to ring the bell, but he wasn’t there. She looked around the yard, but couldn’t see him, which made no sense to her; she couldn’t think where he might have gone. She walked to each corner of the house to see if he had gone round one of the sides for some reason, but there was no sign of him. Bewildered, she walked to where the Land Rover had been parked in the middle of the yard.

She wasn’t normally the sort of person to go rummaging around in someone’s car without permission, it wasn’t polite, but on this occasion she thought herself justified in doing so since she was after her bag. Her bag wasn’t where she had left it, though. It should have been in the foot-well in front of the passenger seat, but it wasn’t there. Not sure why the bag wasn’t there, she leaned further into the vehicle so she could search under the passenger seat, where she found a number of items, none of which were her bag.

The desire to find out more about the man who lived down the road, and with whom she had made such a fool of herself, made her take out each item in turn so she could examine it. She discovered little, other than that Zack Wild was messier than she had previously thought, at least initially; the first few items she pulled out were a road map of the county, an empty crisp packet, a couple of chocolate wrappers, and a hammer – she had no idea why he had a hammer under the passenger seat, it seemed a strange thing for him to have there, but it wasn’t as strange as the next thing she pulled out, a pink mobile phone.

For several long moments, Emily simply stared at the phone in her hand; the phone was familiar to her, she was sure she had seen it before, but she knew it wasn’t Zack’s. She couldn’t work out where it was she knew the phone from, and that annoyed her because she was sure it was important; it came back to her in a flash, whose phone it was and where she had seen it before, when the voice sounded from behind her.

“What are you doing?” The voice that uttered the question was curious, but evidenced no concern, not until she turned round and its owner saw the phone in her hand. “Where did you get that? Give it to me,” he demanded, holding out a hand insistently.

In an instant Emily knew who had killed Georgina Ryder, and Lucy Goulding, and it was the last person she would have thought of. So great was her shock that she was left frozen to the spot, unable to react to her discovery except by standing there and staring at him in slack-jawed shock. Only when he lunged at her, demanding, “Give me that phone, you nosey bitch,” did she recover the ability to move.

At the last second, right before his grasping hand closed around her wrist, Emily twisted away. She felt a small amount of satisfaction when his momentum carried him into the side of the Land Rover, which he collided with heavily, but didn’t allow that to stop her racing across the yard to the still open front door. Once she was through the door, she slammed it closed and, with fumbling fingers, dropped the catch; she didn’t suppose that was going to keep him outside for long, but any delay was good.

When the front door, against which she was leaning, shook under the impact of something heavy, Emily left it and hurried up the stairs. Her fingers continued to show little willingness to properly obey the commands they were being given by her brain as she sought to unlock Georgina Ryder’s phone – she had seen it previously in the hands of her brother’s girlfriend, which was why she had found it familiar from the moment she picked it up – and call her father. She was beginning to think the phone was dead, after all it was more than a week since it must have been lost, when the screen lit up; unfortunately, that was as far as she got for Georgina had her phone secured with a password.

She was struck by a moment of inspiration as she closed the door to her bedroom with a bang and twisted the key in the old-fashioned lock.

The relief she felt when Georgina’s birthday unlocked the phone was amazing, she had never felt anything so powerfully before. That relief quickly disappeared, however, when she got no answer from her father’s number. Again and again she tried to get hold of her father, while she listened with one ear to the front door being smashed open, followed by the thunder of footsteps on their way up the stairs.

“Come on, dad,” Emily pleaded to the phone she had pressed to her ear so hard it was liable to stay there even after she let go of it. “Pickup, pickup, pickup. Where are you when I need you?” When the thunderous footsteps reached the top of the stairs and stopped, only to be followed by a crash as something heavy slammed into the door of the bedroom, Emily abandoned her efforts to contact her father and instead dialled the number for Oakhurst’s police station. She hoped, while dialling, that the solid, and old, oak door that she had always hated would prove to be strong enough to keep out Georgina and Lucy’s killer; so far it had stood up to the job – it shook and shuddered within its frame, but remained secure.

More than she feared being murdered, if it was possible for her to fear something more than that, she feared what he might do to her before he killed her. As she had told Zack on the drive back to the village, she knew what Sergeant Mitchell believed had been done to Georgina and Lucy before they were killed. Until about five minutes ago, she wouldn’t have believed that someone she knew so well could be capable of either rape or murder, and she certainly wouldn’t have believed Him capable of doing committing either act on her; having seen His face when he tried to get the phone from her, though, she found herself scared that he was prepared to do anything, to anyone, including her.

Sturdy the door might be, sturdy enough it wasn’t. Once, twice, three times, He threw his body against the door, and on the fourth time it burst open in a shower of splinters that made Emily duck for fear of being struck. When she straightened up, she saw the menacing figure of the man she had cared about approaching her through the ruins of her door. His face was a twisted, barely recognisable, mask of rage that made her tremble so badly she could barely keep hold of the phone.

“Gimme the phone,” he demanded in a voice that was so harsh and full of so much hatred that  it combined with the look on his face to give him an air of insanity.

Emily could only wonder how it was that she had not seen before how crazy he was. It didn’t seem possible that he could have concealed what kind of person he was from her for so long; not only from her, but from everyone who knew him. Someone should have seen through the act he was putting on, she thought during the millisecond or so where she was able to think with some semblance of clarity.

“I said gimme the fucking phone.”

Emily twisted away as he lunged for her and the phone she was holding. She tried to slip past him and out of the room, thinking that she if she could get out of the house without getting caught, she stood a chance of making it to the village – once there she would be safe. The idea was good, but it failed at the first hurdle; she was caught before she could even get out of the room. She was almost at the door when she was brought short by a sharp jerk on her top, the back of which had been grabbed by the killer she was trying to elude.

“Where the hell d’you think you’re going?”

The question, which was all but shouted in Emily’s face, was accompanied by a yank that sent her spinning and stumbling across the room. She hit the bed and fell over it, landing heavily on the floor on the other side of it; unaware that her call to the police station had been answered, Emily lost her grip on the phone, it bounced from her hand and slid out of sight under the bed. Being far more concerned with protecting herself from the maniac who was obviously intent on causing her serious harm, and most likely on killing her, Emily struggled to her feet, at least she tried to, before she could make it further than her knees she was grabbed and thrown onto her back.

“What the hell were you doing looking around in my car?” he demanded, punching Emily in the face as she tried to sit up. “Why are you so fucking nosey? I said, why are you so fucking nosey?” Grabbing Emily by the front of her t-shirt, he pulled her up so he could punch her again, as a punishment for not answering him, not that she could have done so for the first blow had rocked her head back so that it struck the bedside cabinet behind her.

Again and again he repeated his question, voicing it in different ways, and again and again he hit Emily when she didn’t answer him. Finally, it sank in that he was not going to get an answer because Emily was incapable of providing one. Once he realised that, he let go of her t-shirt, leaving her to drop to the floor with a thud. While the thud echoed around the bedroom, the madness that had overcome him began to fade and sense, or some semblance of it, began to return to his mind, though not before he was struck by a last – for the time being – burst of open insanity.

“Look what you’ve made me do. Look at the mess you’ve made me make.” He kicked Emily in the stomach; he was tempted to kick her again, but forced himself to hold back. He couldn’t afford himself the luxury of wasting any more time; now that the madness was gone, and he was thinking a little more clearly, he realised that he had to move quickly if he wanted to avoid getting caught.

He had no idea how much time he had before Zara got home, and he had to get Emily’s body out of there before she did, before she could see what he had done. He didn’t know where he could take her – he certainly couldn’t dump her body where he had dumped Georgina and Lucy, that would be the first place the police would look, but having a destination wasn’t half as important as getting her out of the house.

He looked out of the window quickly, to be sure the yard was clear, then he bent to grab Emily by the front of her t-shirt. With a heave, He lifted her up from the floor; he had a good set of muscles, but it took all his strength to get the dead weight of her to his shoulder, even though she was not all that heavy, and he staggered a little as he made his way out of the room.

The above is still in the rewrite stage and hasn’t gone through editing, so I hope you will forgive any mistakes there might be.

Nagivating Indieworld – An Honest Review

Navigating Indieworld

Julie A Gerber & Carole P Roman



Social media guru, Julie A. Gerber and award-winning author of forty-three best-selling, independently published books, Carole P. Roman, team up to travel the winding road of self-publishing, promoting, and marketing a book. Join these two self-help experts as they share their vast store of experience in an easy to read, comprehensive guide, complete with end of chapter checklists to keep an author on track. Learn the importance of a beta reader and the value of a good editor. Know what’s needed when preparing a list for choosing an illustrator. Compare the many ways to promote your book. Find out what each step can cost and where you can save. This guide takes new independent authors from the first draft, through publication and the complicated world of marketing. Included is a directory of resources to help get there faster. Navigating Indieworld will end up being the ultimate travel guide for writers on their journey to published author. Join us on Facebook at

I was gifted a free copy of this book, not for review but because I have connected with Carole P Roman through Goodreads and she was kind enough to want to help me with my writing and promoting efforts. Having read the book, however, I just had to review it.

Julie Gerber and Carole Roman have done a great job of putting together a guide for anyone thinking of publishing a novel. The focus is on publishing as an independent, as the title suggests, but they also cover, briefly, getting published through a publishing house.

The book is organised into a number of different areas that encompass every conceivable aspect of writing and publishing a novel, and each one is written in a way that makes it easy to understand what is being said. Not only are the sections clearly written, they include examples where appropriate – I found the section on blurbs particularly helpful, it’s an area of writing I’ve always struggled with but seeing the examples enabled me to restructure my blurb into something that I feel is more appealing.

Having published in the past, I knew some of what was written about in Navigating Indieworld, and would have liked a little more detail to help me in the areas I didn’t know, such as social media – this is an area I’m uncomfortable with, so more information might not help me all that much, I’m actually thinking of paying for help – but for a new author this is a book I’d recommend reading this book so you know what you’re getting into and how to get the most out of it.

Not happy with Booksbutterfly

I’m not normally one to write a post about a negative experience with a website, it’s not in my nature, but on this occasion I feel I need to.

I was dubious the moment I saw the site, it has a lot of packages available, most of which offer a guarantee of a certain number of sales, a number that is likely to result in a profit, a small one, for anyone using the package. My scam alert started going off as a read the details of the packages, none of which gave any information on how the sales are guaranteed.

After thinking about it for a short while I decided to do some research, which wasn’t very helpful – I found an equal number of negative posts about the site as positive with the result that I was undecided about giving the site a try. Ultimately I decided, by virtue of having a bit of money that I could afford to lose (not that I liked the idea) to take the risk, figuring that if I didn’t get the indicated guaranteed number of sales I would know not to use the site again, and I wouldn’t have risked money that I might need for something more important, like food.

It didn’t take long to discover that I should have gone with my instincts and ignored the site. Communication was limited, and I had to send an email to chase up and find out when my book, Where There’s A Will, was going to be promoted for their new release package – I was told that it would be promoted over three days and that sales could take a couple of days longer to show up, unfortunately I saw no sales that I could definitely attribute to booksbutterfly (I had 2 sales over the course of a week but had another long term promotion running that might have been responsible) and when I searched for my book on the sites where it was apparently posted it was either absent or incredibly hard to find.

I have emailed the company, asking for either a refund or an explanation of why I didn’t get the sales they guaranteed. When I get a response, assuming I get one, I’ll let you all know what they say; in the mean time, I would advise against promoting with this site.

Blurb experiments

I’ve been reading Navigating Indieworld by Julie A Gerber and Carole P Roman and it has inspired me to take a fresh look at the blurb I wrote for my debut novel, Where There’s A Will; I’d like you guys to have a read and see what you think.

Current blurb

An armed robbery, a kidnapping, and an enemy that’s closer than anyone realises.

Inspector Stone has to put aside problems at home and an ambitious underling when the daughter of a local businessman is kidnapped, and a multi-million Euro ransom demanded for her return.
Can he find her and return her safely to her parents when the kidnappers are dangerously close to home?

New version

Robbery, kidnapping, murder, some people will do anything to get rich.

A rich family, a big house, and everything her heart desires, Alice Keating has a life that many want, and now someone has decided to take it.

When the schoolgirl is kidnapped it falls to Detective Inspector Nathan Stone to find her and return her safely to her family. If that wasn’t a tough enough job, he’s already on another case, trying to catch the armed robbers who stole fifty thousand pounds at gunpoint and nearly killed an old man and his dog in the getaway.

The man behind Alice’s kidnapping it closer to home than anyone suspects though, and he’s not above murder to stay out of jail and get what he wants.

A guide to the indie world

All at sea when it comes to marketing and promotion?

Published a book but not sure where to go and what to do now?

You need help Navigating Indieworld


Social media guru, Julie A. Gerber and award-winning author of forty-three best-selling books, Carole P. Roman, team up to travel the winding road of self-publishing, promoting, and marketing a book. Join these two experts as they share their vast store of experience in an easy to read book.
Learn why you need a beta reader and the importance of a good editor. Make a list of what you need to do when choosing an illustrator. Compare the many ways to promote your book.
Navigating Indieworld will end up being your travel guide as you journey from writer to published author.
FIVE stars from ForeWord Reviews.

You can get the book on Amazon 0r Barnes & Noble

An excerpt

The long road through rural Hampshire was devoid of any other traffic, and John Wilkins’ mind began to wander. Increasingly it focused on the meal he had waiting for him when he got home, not to mention a nice glass of cider, rather than on the road ahead of him or on his surroundings.
He was snapped out of his reverie by a noise that dragged his attention back to the here and now, a noise his instincts and experience recognised all too well – a gunshot.
Though he was sure of what he had heard – he had heard enough gunshots during his time in the army to recognise one when it reached his ears – his brain reminded him that he was no longer in the military, no longer in Afghanistan or Iraq; no longer did every noise signal a threat to his life. Just to be sure, he reached down to turn the radio off; no sooner had he done so than he heard a second report, this time there was no mistaking the sound. His head snapped round as he searched his surroundings for the source of the gunshots, at the same time he tensed, ready to react the moment he detected danger to himself.
He could see no-one, though that didn’t surprise him; to his right was woodland, it wasn’t dense but there were enough trees and bushes to provide concealment for anyone who didn’t wish to be seen, while on his left was a four-foot-high hedge, which made it all but impossible for him to see anything of the farm on that side of the road.
His eyes had just returned to the road ahead when a figure appeared from behind the hedge. John slammed his foot on the brake and spun the wheel in a desperate bid to avoid the figure, which he realised was a teenage girl when his brain caught up and processed what he was seeing. He missed the girl, to his enormous relief, but there was no way he could avoid the man who ran out after her – he didn’t even see him until the moment of impact.
The man was caught a glancing blow by his Audi and he spun away before collapsing to the ground, where he lay, unmoving. The moment his car stopped, John released his seatbelt, threw open the door and got out. A small part of his brain was concerned about possible damage to his car from the collision, it was overridden, however, by worry for the girl he had almost hit and the man he had hit. He looked around for the girl, but quickly turned his attention to the immobile figure in the middle of the road when he didn’t see her.
Unsure what sort of situation he had found himself in, but certain that it was a dangerous one, John approached the man cautiously. He stopped a dozen or so feet from the prone figure when he saw the gun on the ground, and turned slowly on the spot, his instincts and his senses in overdrive as he searched for an ambush or some hidden danger, like someone else with a gun.
His heart raced as he mentally returned to his tours of duty in the heat and the dust of Afghanistan and Iraq. Everything and everyone there, at least everyone who didn’t wear an Allied uniform, was a potential threat, including – especially – the environment.
It was a good half a minute before his brain and his body accepted that he was no longer in danger from the Taliban or IS insurgents hiding amongst the local populace, and he didn’t have to worry about the possibility of stumbling on a hidden bomb that was going to tear his body apart.
Slowly, he approached the prone figure, stopping when he reached the dropped gun. He bent to pick up the pistol and examined it quickly – the muzzle was warm, and there were traces of gunpowder around it, which told John that it had been fired recently and was the source of the gunshots he had heard. Hoping that there were no other gunmen around, he slipped the safety catch on and then ejected the clip and the round in the chamber. Once he had made it safe, he tossed the gun and the clip in opposite directions and moved to check the man he had hit.
He had studied first aid, both before he joined the army and while he was in uniform, but his medical knowledge was still limited. As far as he could tell the man had, miraculously, suffered no major trauma, though there was still a chance of internal injuries – it was impossible for him to tell. It was no consolation to know that there was no way he could have avoided the collision, and he wasn’t legally culpable.
His brief and, he was sure, inadequate examination completed, John stood and reached a hand into his pocket for his phone. The emergency operator answered almost immediately and John quickly explained the situation and gave his location – he couldn’t be exact since he was on a back road between two villages with no real landmarks or signs, but he was sure the ambulance and the police would find him without too much difficulty; it would actually be harder for them to miss him than to find him so long as they were on the right road.
When a second examination of the man he had hit revealed he was still breathing okay, and was not about to die or suffer complications from his injuries in the immediate future, John went looking for the girl he had somehow managed to avoid. He had seen no sign of her since she ran across the road in front of his car, but he was sure she was still nearby; the road they were on ran for almost four miles, with only a few farms and a single stretch of half a dozen houses along its length; the nearest place the girl could make for, other than the farm she had run from, was about half a mile away.
He searched the woods around where the girl had disappeared with his eyes; it wasn’t easy, for the only light came from the headlights of his car and the pale moon overhead, which was alternately concealed and then revealed by the wispy clouds being blown across the sky by the brisk breeze.
He saw movement out the corner of his eye but dismissed it as just the breeze playing with the foliage; when the movement came again, he turned towards it and spotted the girl, who was hiding behind a tree and using a bush to conceal herself, not very well, as she peered out in an obvious effort to see what was going on.
“Hello,” John called out, keeping his voice as friendly and non-threatening as possible. “Are you alright?” There was a quick rustling and the girl’s eyes disappeared. He wasn’t surprised by that – he didn’t know who the girl was, or what had happened to her, but it was clear that something serious had. “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”
John waited a few moments to see if the girl was going to respond, when she didn’t he called out again. “It’s okay, you’re safe now, he can’t hurt you anymore.” The girl still didn’t respond. “What’s your name?” he asked, trying another tack.” I’m John, John Wilkins,” he said, hoping that by giving his name he would appear less threatening to her, which would encourage her to speak – it worked.
“Are you one of them?” she asked. Her eyes, the only part of her that was visible, were filled with fear while the concealing bush shook in time with the trembling of her body.
“No,” John called back with a shake of his head, not that he had the first clue who ‘they’ were. The news that there was more than one person to worry about had his eyes darting all around, searching again for any possible danger; the figure in the road hadn’t moved and was, apparently, still unconscious, and John couldn’t see anyone else, despite that he remained alert. “I was driving home when you ran out in front of my car – as he said that he couldn’t help wishing that he had stuck to the dual-carriageway, instead of leaving it to avoid the chaos caused by a three-car pileup – what happened? Who are you?”
“Alice Keating.”
The reply came after a silence that stretched on for long enough that John thought she wasn’t going to answer him. He knew the name, he had heard or seen it somewhere recently, he just couldn’t remember where.
“I was kidnapped, I think it was a couple of days ago,” Alice said uncertainly. She wasn’t sure exactly how much time had passed since she was taken from the back of her family’s Bentley, she had lost track of how long she had been locked in the room she had escaped from.
The moment she said that, John remembered where he knew her name from – he was surprised he hadn’t remembered it straight away, after all, her kidnapping had been all over both the local and the national news the last few days.

If you like this excerpt, you can buy the book for the kindle here or read it free if you use Kindle Unlimited, coming soon to paperback as well.

A new direction

I have been having a discussion on Goodreads the last few days regarding writing erotica, and the fact that it can be a good way to get a steady, if not necessarily great, stream of money. I’ve never written in the genre before, and I’m not sure it’s really one I would be any good at, but one of the ladies I was talking to, who does write in the genre, pointed out that I won’t know until I try.

With that in mind, I took out my phone while on the bus to town this morning and let my imagination run, below is what I came up with; it’s not much, and I’m not sure where to go from here, but I’d appreciate any feedback.


dreamingThe fingers, strong but gentle, traced their way up her legs. The tips caressed her skin, teasing and arousing as they moved closer to her most intimate of places.

She opened her legs, signalling, as much as her wetness did, that she was ready and willing to accept him – ready for his fingers, and ready for his manhood, which she could see standing proud between his his legs. He ignored the invitation, though, and continued his teasing. His fingers grazed her lips, the ones that stood at the entrance to her, and then moved on across her hip and up to her stomach.

Her head fell back onto the pillow, and a sigh, almost a moan, escaped her as he leaned over her and his lips joined his fingers in teasing, caressing and arousing her. Her nipples were hard before he reached them, but they stiffened further when she felt his breath on them.

“Oh god!” she gasped, her first words since his fingers found her skin, when his lips encircled a nipple.

She arched her back, wanting him to take more of her breast into his mouth as he teased the pebble that was its peak with his tongue. When he nibbled at it gently, she let out another prayerful gasp; she had never experienced anything so good before.

A hand slid down her body, seeking her sex, but he captured it before she could even begin to give herself the relief she craved. He secured both her hands, preventing her doing anything, as he transferred his attention to her other nipple. Soon they were both as hard as she had ever felt them; only then did he move on.

She expected him to continue his journey North to her lips, which ached to feel his passion. Instead he kissed his way back down across her stomach to the triangle of dark hair that hid her treasure. She thought she would cum the moment his lips touched those of her most intimate place; somehow she held back, wanting the pleasure to last, and he expertly kept her on the edge until she begged him for release.

“Please! I need to cum. Please!”

“Not yet,” he told her.

“Please!” She writhed and twisted, desperate to reach the orgasm she hovered on the edge of.

With a smile that hovered on the edge of evil, he flicked his tongue across her clit once more and then buried it within her so he could drink her juices. He stopped before she could achieve satisfaction and began to kiss his way back up her body.

She tasted herself on him when his lips found hers, something she had never done before, and it heightened her arousal. When the tip of his manhood found the entrance to her she thought she would come undone, she managed to hold back, but only until he slid into her – that was too much for her and felt herself explode around him.

Her orgasm was so strong it was several moments before she became aware that he was all the way inside her. No sooner did she, than he began to withdraw. Again and again he slid into her and then slowly pulled out until only the head remained within her; the sensation was incredible as he filled her entirely, and each time he withdrew she pushed her hips upward, seeking to keep him within her.

“Don’t tease me, please!” It was almost too much for her, and she bucked her hips again and again in an effort to encourage him.

Gradually the rhythm of his thrusts increased until he was pounding into her with a vigour she would not have thought to enjoy. It soon brought her to the edge of a second orgasm, and she sensed he was approaching her own – she wanted them to climax together.

*cough* *cough*

Emily woke with a start, dragged unwillingly from the most erotic dream she could recall. Her nipples strained against the shirt she wore to bed, and the dampness between her thighs told her how good the dream had been; her arousal diminished, though, as she listened to her husband cough next to her.

Tentatively, I’m thinking of making this a story about a woman bored with her husband who has an affair with a co-worker – it’s a bit generic, I know, but it’s a starting point if I decide to go forward with this. If I do go ahead with writing an erotic novel or novella, I want it to have a reasonable storyline, which the erotic scenes enhance, rather than the plot being an excuse for them.

Anyway, thoughts and comments would be greatly appreciated as I consider this idea.

Writing, Book Promotion, and Life: A Personal Decision — Indies Unlimited

This is something I can definitely relate to after my previous experience with publishing. I’ve only just published my first novel under my pen name of Alex R Carver, but I can already feel the drain of marketing when it isn’t my natural forte.

This post is a very personal one, but also one that I think will resonate with other Indie authors. For several months, now, I’ve been in a funk and having trouble figuring out why. I even thought of giving up writing entirely. Why? I looked at my life, how I spend my time, and realized…

via Writing, Book Promotion, and Life: A Personal Decision — Indies Unlimited

Pre-order my debut

As I revealed the other day, my debut novel is coming soon, well thanks to some hard work that soon is closer than expected. I have set the release date as November 3rd and you can pre-order the book between now and then

Where There’s A Will


Crash smashed a fist into the chauffeur’s kidney a second time, he then pulled him away from Jim and threw him into the side of the van. A kick to the back of the knee made Brian fall forward, and Crash smashed his head into the side door of the van. Twice more he did that until the chauffeur’s body went limp and blood ran down his face.

“Get on with it,” he snapped at his partners, who were still trying to drag Alice from the car. From the back pocket of Jim’s combat trousers, he took the envelope that was sticking out, which he shoved into the inside pocket of Brian Jacob’s jacket. That done, he returned to his previous position behind the wheel, where he revved the engine impatiently.

With two men pulling at her, Alice found it impossible to save herself, and, with a final heave, she was yanked from the Bentley to land with a painful thud on the concrete.

If that sounds good, you can pre-order the book at the following links

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Coming soon…

It seems like now would be a good time to tell all of you that there is only a week to go until my debut novel is released. I have all but finished the editing, the formatting will only take a day or so to get organised, and the cover has already been created, so next Thursday it is.

I will be pressing the publish button in time for it to go live somewhere between Thursday and Friday (you can never be sure how long it will take Amazon to get a book onto its virtual shelves).

For the time being I will have Where There’s A Will exclusively on Amazon, which will make it possible for people in Amazon Prime to get it through the Kindle Owners Lending Library and Kindle Unlimited.

Now that’s out of the way, here’s a bit about the book

Where There’s A Will

Inspector Stone Book One

Alex R Carver


An armed robbery, a kidnapping, and an enemy that’s closer than anyone realises.

Inspector Stone has to put aside problems at home and an ambitious underling when the daughter of a local businessman is kidnapped, and a multi-million Euro ransom demanded for her return.
Can he find her and return her safely to her parents when the kidnappers are dangerously close to home?

Coming 3rd November 2016