Coming soon preview: Crossing the Line
Our sleuth is called back to head office to be sent on a dangerous mission to face a ruthless foe in deepest rural England.
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Books
WORDS, reading, writing. They have dominated my life since first being stimulated by the stories read to me by my parents, and the meaningless scrawls I scribed as an infant on whatever paper was nearby.
Rarely have I been without something I felt the urge to read; books galore, newspapers and magazines, fact or fiction, prose or verse, even manuals, brochures and menus. Whatever is to hand.
Reading is a constant, an endless source of learning, knowledge and pleasure.
Likewise with writing. Forever penning sentences since way back when. From being a regular pre-teen winner of writing competitions in the local newspaper to becoming a fully-fledged author of fact and fiction several decades later.
The progression was relentless, even during National Service and despite detours into work as a butcher, a travel agent, cook and restaurateur. Writing and books were always my solace and companions.
Not even the scorn and disgust of my headmaster or my mother’s shocked gasp when I announced I was rejecting university in favour of an apprenticeship as a journalist could deter me.
“You could be a lawyer, doctor, accountant,” they chorused. Yeah, right.
Instead, I ploughed my own furrow as reporter, columnist, feature writer and editor. Travelling the world to report and comment, meeting and mixing with the famous and infamous, palaces and slums, luxurious retreats and scary war zones, the pompous and the humble, shallow show ponies and modest high achievers.
A wonderful life with work as a daily pleasure while crafting my own words and those of many others. And reading, reading, reading.
The culmination was the appearance from nowhere of Bromo Perkins as I dreamily sipped my morning long black in a Melbourne café. He came unbidden, told me his story and my delayed ambition to create a book was fulfilled.
Six books later (one in progress) he remains a persistent companion. Therefore I continue to write, as much for my own distraction and pleasure as for that of any possible reader.
In between, I devour the works of those far more talented than I, and encourage others along the path to publication.
Books, books, books; words, words, words. Welcome to my world
My books
Bromo, book six – an extract
Celtic Skeletons
The illustrated sequel to From Paupers to iPads sees an Englishman unearth hitherto unknown close ties to Wales, Scotland and Cornwall, where he now lives.
Death Comes By Drone
Old foes return; what seem like small-time local crimes bring Bromo into murderous conflict with former enemies from afar.
Twisted Trees
Family ties can kill, as Bromo discovers when he has to dig deep into a respected businessman’s hidden past.
Death by Diamonds
The past catches up: old battles and forgotten foes bring deadly danger to Bromo’s door and to his beloved daughter.
Washed Up
Never a moment’s peace: the riverside discovery of a young woman’s body shatters Bromo’s hopes of a quiet life.
Done Deal
Where it all began: the award-winning book that introduces disgraced undercover and reluctant sleuth Bromo Perkins.
From Paupers to iPads: a Journey Through Seven Generations
One for family historians: a journey of surprising discoveries across six generations of my ancestors in the UK and much further afield.
Reviews and Commentary
Five Strikes and out; too much of a bad thing
THIS was a huge letdown. A thorough disappointment on so many fronts. And all the more so for one who has been a consistent fan of the Cormoran Strike tales from the very beginning. As
Neither short nor to the point
THE prime reason we write is to communicate with others. This applies whether it be with one other person or with the masses devouring the latest scandal or disaster. Nowhere is this more true than
Adrenalin overload, excessive effort and a hangover haze
NOW here’s a weird, even disturbing, thing; my trusty Garmin records a hilly four-mile run around the city where I live. Yet I have scant memory of it ever happening. How can this be?
Delight in old master of writing, and crime fiction
THERE’S nothing like revisiting an old friend. So much forgotten pleasure to be derived from taking giant steps back to the very early years. In so doing we revive experiences that only now are revealed
Stop the clock; pause for reflection
OKAY, so life’s a journey. We all know that; it has been stated often enough. We also know, as with any journey, there will inevitably be stops, delays, breakdowns, detours, U-turns and even the need
Murdering bullies prove noir is noir wherever you are
THIS Icelandic journey into the dark side sparked something of a defining moment. Or, more precisely, a desire to have something defined. Better than that, a search for the definition of a definition; one that
Family history writes its own mysteries
TRACING one’s ancestors is akin to joining Poirot as he unravels the threads of an Agatha Christie mystery. Except that the little Belgian detective eventually provides acceptable answers. Not so with family history. So many
And he’s in charge of what?
Seems that stream of consciousness is still in use: THE following apologies for sentences are all complete and direct quotes from one who should know better. What happened to leading by example? “If there is
When a famous mystery writer becomes her own suspect
OUR libraries and bookshops offer an intriguing double-whammy for devotees of crime fiction. They can either select a mystery by the enduring and much revered Josephine Tey, or they can delve into a tale
Taut teaser a good introduction to German crime fiction
AND now for something completely different with a truly gripping thriller from a source not previously sampled. After years of immersion in the tide of Scandi Noir, I am stepping out into fresh fields with