I have not read this book
Genre Crime Fiction
About the book
Why would a
rich girl become a prostitute?
Three years ago Joy refused to sleep with an ex boyfriend. When he committed suicide, her guilt was enormous. To punish herself she opted to serve as a prostitute for three years.
How far would you go to protect your child?
Cora loves her convict husband despite - or because of - his bad boy ways. But now that he's back in her life, she has their daughter to consider. Is a faulty father better than no father at all?
A serial killer…
A serial killer who murders women and displays their bodies dressed in a white sheet with a fencing mask covering the face. Who will be next?
Three years ago Joy refused to sleep with an ex boyfriend. When he committed suicide, her guilt was enormous. To punish herself she opted to serve as a prostitute for three years.
How far would you go to protect your child?
Cora loves her convict husband despite - or because of - his bad boy ways. But now that he's back in her life, she has their daughter to consider. Is a faulty father better than no father at all?
A serial killer…
A serial killer who murders women and displays their bodies dressed in a white sheet with a fencing mask covering the face. Who will be next?
Read an excerpt
The
crayon moved down the page. Red, livid, ready. Spread on the table, splayed
like a sacrifice, was the Classifieds section of the New Zealand Herald. He
could’ve found the information faster online, but the risk of leaving an
electronic trail made him turn to the old fashioned, the tactile, the
untraceable.
The
scent of fake wax from the crayon mingled with the fresh ink of the newspaper.
He paged to the adverts in the Adult Entertainment column.
Bored?
Lonely? Looking for a good time?
No,
that wasn’t it.
Fat?
So what?
He
raised his eyebrows, continued his search. Suddenly, the red crayon halted.
A
gentle massage using modern or ancient Eastern techniques.
Leaves
you invigorated and stress-free. For appointments, phone...
Unconventional.
Not into rules. Yes, this one had potential. The crayon swooped, trailed a
jagged red oval around the ad.
“Honey?
Are you coming to bed?”
The
voice wafted down the stairwell. He closed the newspaper, careful to line up
its edges and smooth out its spine.
“In
a minute.”
He
read the advert again. His blood raced. The addiction simmered inside him.
Excited. Expectant.
Yes.
Definite
potential.
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ReplyDeleteEnjoyed the excerpt.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed getting to know your book; congrats on the tour, I hope it is a fun one for you, and thanks for the chance to win :)
ReplyDeleteThank you for having me here :-)
ReplyDeleteSounds like my kind of book!
ReplyDeleteLooks like an interesting book.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the contest.
slehan at juno dot com
Can't wait to get started on this book!
ReplyDeleteWho are some of your favorite authors?
ReplyDeleteDo you listen to music when you write?
ReplyDeleteWhat makes you write?
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