The partner we no longer trust, the boss we fear, the family member we cannot tolerate. Stories exploring the psychological effect of modern life: a pregnant mother becomes convinced her husband is having an affair and will stop at nothing to get to the truth; a married man is drawn inexorably towards temptation, despite knowing it could cost him his family; a quiet man absorbs increasing pressure and stress, with devastating consequences. Ordinary people count the cost of ‘just one more thing’.
There’s something voyeuristic about this short story collection. I felt as though I was eavesdropping on the characters’ thoughts and conversations, peering through their windows into their lives. Each story pulses with tension and raw honesty, revealing the often-ugly effects of modern life’s pressures. They leave you wanting more but never give too much, always stopping at a point that achieves the most impact. The collection isn’t comfortable to read. It deals with challenging emotions and actions. It looks at Brexit, COVID, social media, politics, and racism in everyday life. It’s a bold and unapologetic examination of life today, forcing us to confront what and who we might be under the surface.
In between his day job, bringing up three children, being run off his feet by a crazy cocker spaniel, listening to Mozart’s D minor piano concerto, perfecting the art of homemade pizzas and studying Ordnance Survey maps of the Yorkshire Moors, Dom likes to write. Dom lives in the fantastic town of Ilkley in Yorkshire, having arrived there via Bedford, Nottingham and London. Dom has written two books, So Long, Marianne, a romantic fiction, and Just One More Thing, a book of short stories about greed, obsession and fear.
In a crumbling old mansion in the English countryside, eleven people gather, each one famous in their field. They have been invited for a three-day house party, to celebrate the launch of a groundbreaking virtual reality game that promises to unite the worlds of technology, politics and the environment.
DCI Maarten Jansen has been summoned to join the house party. His instructions are to offer police protection in case of an outside attack. Instead, he finds simmering tensions, long-buried secrets – and a murderer in their midst…
This book was straight up addictive. Packed across three tense days, it jumps between height of the crisis and the build-up. The chapters are short and suspenseful, divided into the perspectives of Maarten, Filip, Lois, and Iqbal. There is a sense of watching each scene through a smudged magnifying glass. I felt simultaneously imbued with the heightening tension between the characters and kept at arm’s length from the truth simmering beneath them – right up until the last moment.
The secluded countryside mansion setting adds a layer of claustrophobia to the taut atmosphere. The threads binding the guests together wind tighter with each conversation. Each page vibrates with energy. Rachael Blok’s writing has an urgency that keeps the reader almost stumbling in excitement to read the next sentence.
Into the Fire hits that spot between a totally unputdownable mystery and a fascinating delve into human emotion and relationships. It totally engrossed me and gave me a much-needed shake from my lockdown lethargy.
Thank you to Midas PR and Head of Zeus for having me on the blog tour!
Today I’m part of the blog tour for Nemesis by Anthony Riches, and I’m excited to be sharing an extract below! If you like the sound of it, scroll down for links to where you can grab a copy.
First off, a little about the the book…
They killed his sister. Now he’ll kill them all.
Mickey Bale is an elite close protection officer. That’s why the Met police has given him the toughest job of all: guarding the Minister of Defence at a moment when Chinese-British relations have hit a deadly boiling point. And when Mickey’s life isn’t on the line for his work, he’s taking his chances waging war on a powerful London gang family. Their dealer supplied a lethal ecstasy pill to his sister, and Mickey is determined to take them down, one at a time. But will he get away with it – or will his colleagues in the force realise that the man on an underworld killing spree is one of their own?
The black Loake boots, Mickey decided. A perfect match for black Wrangler Arizonas, and freshly resoled in rubber. A midnight-blue shirt, and that was him ready. Externally, at least. Looked in the mirror and got a quizzical stare back. Michael James Bale. Age forty-three, no distinguishing marks. A nondescript face, nothing to make him stand out. Not the tallest of men at six foot one, but solid. One hundred and eighty-five pounds of gym-toned muscle honed at his local boxing club. Good genes too. Strong, and in good shape. In his prime, pretty much.
Roz met him at the bottom of the stairs. The usual examination, before letting him out for the night. Looking up at him with that expression. The all-knowing, all-commanding, straight-to-the-point woman who’d charmed him over a decade before. And who still had him in the palm of her hand after all that time. With her dark hair that she wished was blonde. The all-seeing brown eyes that she wished were green, like Mickey’s. And a body that she kept very, very well toned. ‘Giving you no excuses, Mickey Bale,’ as she frequently told him. Not that Mickey wanted any excuses. A childhood spent watching his friends struggling through the debris of their parents’ failed relationships had taught him the value of holding on to what worked. And not letting go for anything.
‘Shaved? Sure there’s no-one waiting for you?’
He grinned in the way that always disarmed her.
‘Oh they’ll be waiting all right. Empty glasses and “where you been all this fucking time?” looks.’
She laughed with him. Knowing his friends well enough.
‘You will keep drinking with that lot. What do you expect?’
He let his face assume what she called his chump look. Lips pursed, eyes rolled up. Waited a moment, timing being the secret of comedy. Then face-palmed and shook his head.
‘Now you tell me?’
‘Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.’
‘Wait… what? You’ve seen through my plan?’
A swift prod in the breadbasket to reinforce her point.
‘You come it the poor me, but really you love it. Talking shop with the boys, playing up to the image. Flash Mickey. With the guns and the cars and all that.’
He shrugged. ‘Beats the alternative, doesn’t it? Beats actually working. You know how that would have gone.’
‘Yeah.’ She turned him round and pushed him to the door. Slapped his backside for emphasis. ‘Go on. Back by eleven though; you’ve got an early start.’
He grinned at her again, accepting the heavy-lipped kiss. The door closed behind him as he stepped out into the early spring night. Down the Crescent and out onto the High Road. Warm enough in his black Belstaff jacket that had cost a fortune the previous month. Strolling under the streetlamps, he zipped it up to his neck. Clicked the placket pop-studs shut. Checked that the wrist and pocket studs were closed too. Knowing they would clatter if left unfastened. Then fastened the neck strap, not wanting the buckle to flap around.
He paused on the corner with Jervis Road. Looked up at the CCTV camera above his head. Frozen, lifeless on its gimbal mount. Still out of action. Just the way Warren liked it. Mickey quietly slipped into a doorway and squatted down. Affecting to fiddle with a bootlace. Peeped round the corner, looking down the pavement. The club opposite Warren Margetson’s pitch would still be nine-tenths empty. Its drinks too expensive while the pubs were open. But Warren was already on duty. As any good dealer would be. A professional, of a sort, Warren. And there was more than one sort of client in his line of business. Some of them dabbling. Some of them hardened recreational users. Some of them functioning addicts. And some just victims. Like Katie.
About the author Anthony Riches, coming from a family with three generations of army service, has always been fascinated by military history, psychology and weaponry – which led him to write the Empire series set in ancient Rome. The idea for his first contemporary thriller, Nemesis, came to him under the influence of jetlag at two in the morning in a Brisbane hotel room. He lives in rural Suffolk with his wife, two dogs the size of ponies and a bad tempered cat.
The passionate, young police officer Sam Shephard returns in a taut, atmospheric and compelling police procedural, which sees her take matters into her own hands when the official investigation into the murder of a local businessman fails to add up… The New Zealand city of Dunedin is rocked when a wealthy and apparently respectable businessman is murdered in his luxurious home while his wife is bound and gagged, and forced to watch. But when Detective Sam Shephard and her team start investigating the case, they discover that the victim had links with some dubious characters. The case seems cut and dried, but Sam has other ideas. Weighed down by her dad’s terminal cancer diagnosis, and by complications in her relationship with Paul, she needs a distraction, and launches her own investigation. And when another murder throws the official case into chaos, it’s up to Sam to prove that the killer is someone no one could ever suspect.
Chopped into short, staccato chapters, Bound reels the reader in with an unnerving opening and a tough, spirited heroine. Set in Dunedin, New Zealand, the story’s backdrop is vivid and atmospheric – just like its characters. Sam Shepard is a brilliant protagonist to follow on this twisting, layered case. The tight plot is made even more fun to unwrap by the splashes of her wry, humorous observations. Despite Sam’s sharp instincts, she doesn’t have an easy run. Both her personal and professional life close in on her as she struggles with a complex case, a toxic work environment, and family and relationship troubles. Almost fuelled by the obstructions surrounding her, she retains the grit and resolve to see the case to its – very unexpected – end.
Bound is evocative and unpredictable, heartbreaking and humorous. If you want the chance to pick it up ASAP, enter my giveaway on Instagram @milasbookshelf.
Thanks so much to Orenda Books and Random Things Tours for having me on the blog tour!
About the author
Vanda Symon is a crime writer, TV presenter and radio host from Dunedin, New Zealand, and the chair of the Otago Southland branch of the New Zealand Society of Authors. The Sam Shephard series has climbed to number one on the New Zealand bestseller list, and has also been shortlisted for the Ngaio Marsh Award for Best Crime Novel and for the CWA John Creasey (New Blood) Dagger. She currently lives in Dunedin, with her husband and two sons.