Wednesday, 28 February 2018

The Child Finder - Rene Denfeld #Review

The Child Finder - Rene Denfeld

The Child Finder is centered around the disappearance of Madison Clulver a 5-year-old who disappeared in Oregon’s Skookum National Forest.

Her desperate parents are certain someone has taken her and despite being 3 years down the line, hire Naomi a private investigator who has a talent for locating the lost and the missing.

During the search Naomi uncovers some painful memories from her past which gives us an insight into why she does what she does.

The story is mainly told both from Madison (know as The Snow Child) and Naomi’s point of views.

I found this book a little bit hard to read as it felt like a book of child neglect, especially as this progressed and I found out more of where Madison was.

I was still thinking of this book weeks after finishing and my review has been delayed whilst I processed my thoughts.

My thanks go to the Publisher Orion Publishing and NetGalley for allowing me to read and review this book. This is my honest unbiased opinion.        


Links to the author

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Monday, 26 February 2018

Life of Crime - Kimberley Chambers #Review

Life of Crime - Kimberley Chambers

Life of crime was my return to Kimberley Chambers books after a while and what a fantastic read.

Jason Ramplings is a chancer who loves wheeling and dealing, and lives on a run-down council estate and is itching to get off that estate by meeting a girl who can help him do this and make a home for him and his daughter.

Melissa is a single mum who meets Jason and falls in love with him. Jason likes Melissa but doesn’t necessarily love her but sees a way to get off estate when he finds out who her father is.

Melissa is the woman who ends up marrying Jason but despite a “hiccup” on their wedding day feels like he’s the one, or is it “she’s made her bed …………”.

We get to see the highs and the lows of Jason and the lengths he will go to get what he wants.

The story is told in part from Jason’s view and gives us an understanding of what his life was like and what he had to deal with as well as the lengths he will go to get what he wants. Little does he realise what will happen!!!!!

An excellent book by Kimberley Chambers and one I enjoyed.

Thanks to Publisher Harper Collins UK / Harper Collins and NetGalley for allowing me to read and review this book. This is my honest & unbiased opinion.  
Links to purchase your copy   
Links to the Author
If you are interested in finding out more about the author, follow the links below. 




Sunday, 25 February 2018

Hiding - Jenny Morton Potts #blogtour #extractpost

Today I am pleased to be able to participate in the blog tour for Hiding by Jenny Morton Potts.  My thanks go to Rachel's Random Resources and Rachel Gilbey.

A gripping psychological thriller with chilling twists, from a unique new voice. 

Keller Baye and Rebecca Brown live on different sides of the Atlantic. Until she falls in love with him, Rebecca knows nothing of Keller. But he’s known about her for a very long time, and now he wants to destroy her.

This is the story of two families. One living under the threat of execution in North Carolina. The other caught up in a dark mystery in the Scottish Highlands. The families’ paths are destined to cross. But why? And can anything save them when that happens?

Chapter 5  (Rebecca Brown, aged 10, decides to go searching for her parents)

Shortly after the birthday party, Rebecca was on a school trip to Fort William. The children were walking double file along a pavement and as they passed the Library at Airds Crossing, she happened to look in the window and saw someone there, sitting at a table and looking at a newspaper. Quite relaxed, they looked, as if it was their own kitchen. She wondered about that all day. She wondered so hard about that anonymous person reading a newspaper comfortably in a public library that the wonder scooped out a small section of her brain and made its home there.
When she got home, Rebecca asked her grandmother if she could join that library at Airds Crossing and Primmy said, “No”. This was quite usual and did not daunt the girl in the least. Her grandmother said “No” to everything, whether she had properly heard the question or not. When Rebecca asked next, Primmy said there was a perfectly good mobile library provided by High Life Highland each Thursday morning in the Co-operative Supermarket car park – Primmy never called it the Co-op – and indicated that this was a duty, to support the mobile service.
Rebecca didn’t ask again but instead arranged to go swimming with her friend Maria Theresa at the weekend. She gave MT five pounds. Two pounds fifty of that was to go swimming by herself in the municipal pool at Fort William. One pound fifty was for a Slush Puppie afterwards. The remaining pound was to keep her mouth shut.
During the bus ride however, the duplicity now properly underway, Rebecca became increasingly nervous. The bus stopped suddenly and when she heard the hiss of the door opening, she felt the game was up and stiffened, ready to be accused. But the driver was just getting out to usher a few blackface sheep off the road. Maria Theresa was pleased with the driver’s intervention, since she enthused for rare breeds. MT’s family had begun to specialise in Castlemilk Morrit on their farm.
When Rebecca suggested to her grandmother that they too acquire a dozen or so sheep, she was told the answer was no. Primmy did not hold with sheep. And the children’s grandfather took no interest in the Taransay livestock, full stop.
At the bus station in Fort William, Maria Theresa and Rebecca synchronised watches, agreed to meet again in ninety minutes, and parted ways. For a moment, Rebecca thought they might shake hands. But then she settled for saying, ‘So Long’.
Rebecca felt like a criminal once again, as she stood at the library reception. She blushed easily and her cheeks were aflame.
“Gosh, is it cold out?” a quite young lady said to her and pressed the back of her fingers (the nerve of it!) against Becky’s cheek. But Rebeca was used to people touching her cheeks because of her dimples. ‘Irresistible,’ her grandfather often said.
The librarian took charge of Rebecca Brown’s Lochaber (Under 12) Transport card which had her address. In just minutes, the girl was signed up to membership of this lovely warm library in Fort William. The peak of this victory suddenly troughed as a vision came to her of Maria Theresa alone at the Leisure Centre, at the deep end of the big swimming pool, her hand just out of reach of the edge, her legs oddly still beneath the surface and her torso sliding into the water, then her open mouth. Rebecca held her breath, as if she herself were going under.
‘Is there something in particular I can help you with?’ the librarian wanted to know.  Rebecca hesitated, so the librarian continued, ‘Just to get you started.’ Rebecca mumbled something about liking newspapers and the young woman smiled, gesturing with her head that she should be followed. Rebecca was instructed how to log on at the monitor and how to make the selections from the menu. And then she was left to it. She knew the date. 7th December 2001. The newspapers: Glasgow Herald, Scotsman, Daily Record all carried the story on their front page the next day, after the accident.
But it wasn’t a crash involving just her parents. There was a pile up, lots of vehicles, and from the pictures, it looked like they had been dropped there by a crane; the kind of crane which had a giant magnet hanging down; as if the cars had already been scrunched for scrap. Though the vehicles had not been neatly cubed. You could not tell from the photos if there were any ripped persons inside. The shots were too grainy. It looked like one articulated lorry had eaten a small hatchback. The end of the little car poked out from the open bonnet jaw of the truck. There was no particular sense in the photography that this was winter but you could tell it was night. Just after 9.00pm, according to survivors. The pictures were black and white. There were no bodies strewn on the tarmac. There was nothing red. There was a number: 11. That’s how many died. Her parents were mentioned: … couple leaving behind three young children. Another phrase that has remained with Rebecca is ‘visibly shaken’. Officers and medical personnel were visibly shaken.
Later, during her teens, Rebecca was to add detail to the crash scene. From her imagination, she augmented the photographs over the years, adding Highland cattle slaughtered and strewn along the dual carriageway too, with legs bovine and human twisted together. She made the horror more real, with eyes popping or swollen shut, and horns splitting femoral arteries. She was able to make the images move, she flung a bony tail over a windscreen and lying in her iron bed at night with her eyes tight shut, she could make sound too, with hooves beating on the metal bodywork. Her grandmother was always shaking her head at Rebecca’s imagination, and with fair cause. One peculiar day, Primmy said, ‘It’s no use hiding. Life will still be here when you get back.’
How does that grab you.  I for one like the sound of this book and look forward to reading it soon.
Interested in the book well pop across to /
There is even a Giveway to enter for a chance to Win 3 x e-copies of Hiding by Jenny Morton Potts (Open Internationally).
About The Author, Jenny Morton Potts
Jenny is a novelist, screenplay writer and playwright. After a series of 'proper jobs', she realised she was living someone else's life and escaped to Gascony to make gîtes. Knee deep in cement and pregnant, Jenny was happy. Then autism and a distracted spine surgeon wiped out the order. Returned to wonderful England, to write her socks off.

Jenny would like to see the Northern Lights but worries that’s the best bit and should be saved till last. Very happily, and gratefully, settled with family.

She tries not to take herself too seriously.
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To see what my fellow bookworms thought check out the blogs below. 



Saturday, 24 February 2018

Living in the Past - Jane Lovering (#Blog Tour) #LivingInThePast #NetGalley


Do you ever wish you could turn back time?

Grace Nicholls has a few reasons for wanting to turn back the clock … although an archaeological dig at a Bronze Age settlement on the Yorkshire moors is not what she had in mind. But encouraged by her best friend Tabitha, that’s exactly where she finds herself.

Professor Duncan McDonald is the site director and his earnest pursuit of digging up the past makes him appear distant and unreachable. But when a woman on the site goes missing, it seems that his own past might be coming back to haunt him once again.

As they dig deeper, Duncan and Grace get more than they bargained for – and come to realise that the past is much closer than either of them ever imagined …


My Review

I was unsure when first starting Living in the Past and began to wonder if I would enjoy this book.  However, I preserved and gave it the usual few chapters I allow myself to read, to see if I would like it and if not, it was one of those DNF books for me.  I am pleased to say that I did finish it and due to this book being completely different to my usual read actually found myself quite enjoying reading this different genre for a change. 

We meet Grace who we learn lost her husband Jamie to cancer two years previously and after a really tough time coming to terms with her bereavement, reluctantly decided to go on an archaeological dig with her friend Tabitha and her partner Millie. 

Grace is a teacher and currently on summer break and initially it is Tabitha and Grace that arrive on the site in North Yorkshire with Millie due to follow behind in a week or so.  They are assigned jobs with Tabitha in the kitchen or mess area feeding the troops and Grace allocated work on the wet sieves section.  Grace is really not keen on being there but her friend Tabitha asks her to stick it out as she thinks it will do her good.  Little does she realise what is about to happen.

Millie, Tabitha’s girlfriend then comes out and joins the dig and it transpires that Millie is well respected in the field of archaeology and on Millie joining the camp, Grace realises that the two girls need some privacy and space and she finds herself ending up sharing a tent with Duncan.

Duncan MacDonald is the head of the dig and also a professor at the university.  He has bit of a reputation of being a moody man, and not very socialable and often can come across as quite snappy.  He also has a bit of a troubled past. 

During the course of the dig, a dig member goes missing and the police become involved and Duncan is interviewed.  It transpires that the police officer and Duncan have a bit of history.  Through this investigation it becomes apparent that Duncan seems to have a bit of a past with the police officer investigating this missing student and Grace comes to learn that another dig member went missing over 15 years ago who happened to also have been his then current girlfriend. 

We see the group going through the daily routine of digging certain areas and seeing if there is anything of historical value and Grace not really enjoying herself at all and wanting to go home.  We learn that Grace doesn’t really sleep at night as that is when she is left alone with her memories and thoughts and she finds the only comfort she can which is wandering round the site and some days watching the sun rise at the top of the dig overlooking another camp.  It is through these late night visits that we realise Grace seems to be able to move between past and present.

Using her senses and the fact that she can move between past and present, she uncovers where Duncan’s girlfriend of 15 years has gone and tries to bring him closure and let him know that it wasn’t his fault. We see a different side to Duncan, a softer and much more caring side buried deep underneath all that mud, dirt and baggy clothes he wears whilst on the site.

As this book wasn’t my usual read, I must admit to thoroughly enjoying it and read this quite quickly on my commute to and from work, taking me just over a week to read), even managing to read at lunchtime on a few occasions.  This isn’t bad for me considering I would only be reading for about an hour a day some days.   I look forward to seeing what else Jane Lovering has written / will be writing shortly.      

About the Author

Jane was born in Devon and now lives in Yorkshire. She has five children, four cats and two dogs of variable sanity. She works in a local supermarket and also teaches creative writing. Jane is a member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association and has a first-class honours degree in creative writing.

Jane writes comedies which are often described as ‘quirky’. Her debut, Please don’t stop the music, won the 2012 Romantic Novel of the Year and the Romantic Comedy Novel of the Year Awards from the Romantic Novelists’ Association

Jane’s novels include: Please don’t stop the music, Star Struck, Hubble Bubble, Vampire State of Mind, Falling Apart, How I Wonder What You Are, I Don’t Want to Talk About It, Can’t Buy Me Love and Little Teashop of Horrors and Living in the Past.

Follow the rest of the blog tour or find out what other bloggers have thought whose stops have already been featured.


Below is some advance praise from one of Jane Lovering's
other books "Little Teashop of Horrors"
I have read and loved all Jane Lovering’s books and can never get enough of her quirky sense of humour or different, but amazing, heroes. This, however, was probably my favourite of all her books – it is, quite simply, wonderful! Christina Courtenay, Award-Winning Author
I’m a totally unashamed fan of Jane Lovering’s writing. It’s always a teeny bit quirky, romance with perfectly judged humour that has you laughing out loud at times, but often with a surprising edge of darkness. And this book – well, I’m delighted to tell you that it’s up there with her very best … It’s a great story, beautifully written in her own inimitable style, with characters I guarantee you’ll grow to love every bit as much as I did. Highly, highly recommended. Anne at Being Anne.
Little Teashop of Horrors is another winner from Jane Lovering. It's quirky and funny, explores some dark issues and has a proper romantic story at its heart. Jane Lovering really knows how to write a story that will have you wrapped up in the lives of her characters, following them through their problems and cheering on their triumphs. A perfect read to leave you smiling.  Joanne, Portobello Book Blog
I have always loved Jane's books - she brings so much humour to them. The humour is still there in this one but it goes a little deeper than usual … I couldn't put it down. In the usual romcom you don't root for the people in the way that I did for these characters … I can honestly say, hand on heart, I've never read a Choc Lit book that I haven't loved! And this one is near the top of that list! Ann, Annie's Book Corner
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Sunday, 18 February 2018

Dangerous Score - Michael Bearcroft (EXTRACT POST)

Today I am pleased to be able to participate in the blog tour for Dangerous Score by Michael Bearcroft.  My thanks go to Rachel's Random Resources. 
Football hero Jason Clooney is riding high....until a date with a beautiful woman lands him in trouble with the media, and into battle with the criminal underworld.
Now against a backdrop of an uncertain professional future, Jason has to confront disturbing revelations surrounding his new girlfriend’s family. From football action on the pitch to behind the scenes plotting. To battles with a criminal gang and constant media attention, all adding to the toughest challenges he has ever faced in life, love, as a player and as a man.

Now that the prodigal son had returned home he got his mother’s equivalent of the fattened calf, which meant they sat down to Jason’s favourite meal. Melon followed by mum’s own special homemade turkey and vegetable pie, with mashed potatoes and sweetcorn all to be finished before bananas, raspberries and home-made ice cream. You certainly wouldn’t have wanted to play football after eating that lot!
Afterwards they all helped clear up, then mugs of coffee in hand it was back to the conservatory. Clooney tried to keep them talking about what they would do in Canada, but Sue was having none of it, always bringing the conversation back to him, trying to fathom out just what was going on in his life. 
His dad had printed off loads of stuff he had found out about Thresham on the computer. Sue thought Jess looked a real stunner in her photos, and worried for the well-being of this young woman she had never even met. They watched some TV in the lounge, then after Mrs Clooney retired Jason and his dad opened the brandy he had bought, while John pressured him with more of what he had discovered online. Once Clooney senior was sure his wife was out of earshot, he spoke quietly, seriously.
‘I’ve found out a lot about this Thresham,’ he said. ‘Old friends in the police force, revenue and business people have all convinced me, how dangerous he is.’
Martin Thresham was the youngest of seven kids, brought up, or should that be dragged up in a council house in Raunds, Northamptonshire. Martin was nearly expelled at eight when he hit a fellow pupil with a house brick. Age twelve he was convicted of shoplifting and demanding money with menace from two eight-year-old girls. He was taken into care, but three years later he was banged up in a young offenders’ institute. He had taken part, in fact the police believed he was the ringleader, in a vicious attack on a courting couple. The man had been beaten so badly he was hospitalised for weeks and the woman had been subjected to an appalling sexual attack. Upon his release, now too old for school, not that any would have had him, he started work on a building site as a labourer. Six months later having stolen tools and materials from the site, he was back inside. He never learnt the error of his ways, and a short time after his release he was involved in a fight in a brothel in Bedford. He punched a prostitute, the owner and the two policemen who arrested him. His next sojourn at Her Majesty’s pleasure was the last to date. He had a twin brother, Karl, who worshipped him, God knows why, who also did time for various offences. Sadly, of the seven siblings only one worked at a normal job, a school teacher, and she had nothing to do with the others.
Thresham moved abroad upon his release, where and to do what, no one knows. But he returned with enough cash to buy a small, struggling, caravan manufacturing firm, Nene Valley Caravans. He had some talent, because he turned the company around and opened sites in France and Spain. Then over the years a casino in Northampton, a club in Corby had followed, and even a hotel in Florida, as well as other illegal businesses like brothels that he was suspected to control. 
By the age of forty he was reputed to be a multimillionaire. Though Mr Clooney’s contacts had hinted some of his wealth was a result of tax evasion, people trafficking, drugs and prostitution, rather than legitimate business. He really was a man to be very wary of. 
John Clooney had also discovered things about Jess and Amanda’s real father, Colin Granger. He had been the manager of Shipsmore Removals, a transport company owned by Thresham. Colin and his family lived in the village of Woodford, just a few miles from work. Every day after finishing work he used to drop into his local, drink two halves of beer, never more, before walking the couple of hundred yards back to work, collecting his car and driving home. Only one night he never made it. He was knocked down by a hit and run driver. At the inquest it was reported that he had seemed stressed that last night in the pub and was definitely not his usual self. No one was ever found or charged, and the coroner’s verdict was manslaughter by a person or persons unknown. To this day the driver had never been found.
Thresham, Granger’s boss, had supported the family financially; he paid for the funeral, paid off their mortgage and supplied Mrs Granger with a decent pension. He paid for the girls’ holidays, even bought Paula Granger her first car – she was too upset to drive her late husband’s. He was so kind and considerate to the family, it was really no surprise when some years later he and Paula married. The girls’ names were changed to his, the big house in Loddington was built and Mrs Thresham, née Granger, apparently thought he was a saint, even though most people thought he was the devil. 
Jason couldn’t help being surprised at all his father had found out. He knew his parents loved him, but to go to these lengths, just proved how much. The quiet way his dad had told him, the research he must have done, told Jason how worried they must be, but to put all that effort in, it just reminded him, do kids ever really know their folks and just how much they care?
There was little to be said after that, except he again promised to look after himself, and he thanked his old man for all he had found out. There was a last surprise though, when his dad said Blister had phoned them.
‘He guessed we would be worried when we saw your injuries, he just wanted to let us know he was keeping an eye out for you and we weren’t to worry.’
Jason was stunned by the thoughtfulness of the man he now regarded as a dear friend, then pleased, because he knew it would have the desired effect of making his folks worry less. He was even more humbled by the old soldier now.
They said their goodnights and retired to bed.
Interested in the book well pop across to Amazon  or enter the Giveaway – Win 3 x Signed Copies of Dangerous Score by Michael Bearcroft (Open Internationally)
About Michael Bearcroft

Ex Sheffield United Junior, former Chairman Corby Town FC, Actor and stage director, former British Red Cross Regional Director.
Follow the rest of the blog tour to see what my fellow bloggers views are about the book. 

Saturday, 17 February 2018

Blue Knight - Simone Buchholz (EXTRACT POST)

Today I am pleased to be able to participate in the blog tour for Blue Night by Simone Buchholz  and have an excerpt from the book for you.  My thanks go to Orenda Books and Anne Cater.   
Also on the blog tour today is Emma's Bookish Corner

A real find in the burgeoning field of European crime fiction. Simone Buchholz writes with real authority and a pungent, noir-ish sense of time and place.  Blue Night is a palpable hit’ Barry Forshaw

After convicting a superior for corruption and shooting off a gangster’s crown jewels, the career of Hamburg’s most hard-bitten state prosecutor, Chastity Riley, has taken a nose dive: she has been transferred to the tedium of witness protection to prevent her making any more trouble. However, when she is assigned to the case of an anonymous man lying under police guard in hospital, Chastity’s instinct for the big, exciting case kicks in. Using all her powers of persuasion, she soon gains her charge’s confidence, and finds herself on the trail to Leipzig, a new ally, and a whole heap of lethal synthetic drugs. When she discovers that a friend and former colleague is trying to bring down Hamburg’s Albanian mafia kingpin single-handedly, it looks like Chas Riley’s dull life on witness protection really has been short-lived…


My new office in the public prosecution department is only half as big as my old one. It’s more of a storeroom than an office really. The idea was probably to come up with a special cell, just for me, one where only I – and they – know it’s a cell. Every time I look out of the narrow window I’m amazed that it isn’t barred. 
Officially, I have a secretary, but because there’s no anteroom to my office, only a corridor, the secretary sits in the outer office belonging to my colleagues in drugs. So obviously she’s mainly their secretary and not mine. It doesn’t really bother me, if I’m honest. It’s just another excuse to crawl out of my cubbyhole. And obviously you don’t need a secretary for most things. I’m perfectly capable of phoning the archive myself, for example.


‘Riley here, hello.’


‘I’d like everything relating to Gjergj Malaj, as soon as possible, please.’



‘From the early nineties to now?’

‘Anywhere the name appears.’

‘It’ll take a while; that’s almost a hundred and fifty files.’

‘I know,’ I say, hanging up.

I open the arrow slit in the wall and light a cigarette. 

I hope to smell a faint hint of spring or hear a bird twittering in a tree. But the only thing I notice is the disaster galloping down on us. 

‘Calabretta thinks Faller wants to shaft the Albanian. All by himself.’ 

I’m standing at the bar at Klatsche’s place, a beer in front of me and the boss in person behind the bar.

‘Calabretta thinks what?’ Klatsche’s clattering around, filling the fridge with bottles. 

‘That Faller’s hatched a plan,’ I say. ‘And that he’s about to put his plan into action. He seems to have decided that it’s bang out of order to have the Albanian still running around free, especially now he’s putting on society airs.’

‘It is out of order,’ says Klatsche. ‘I’m with Faller on that one.  That guy’s the biggest skunk in town. He ought to be banged up, not going to receptions at the Hotel Atlantic.’ 

He’s stopped putting the bottles away. He’s opened a beer and lit a cigarette. There’s not much light in the Blue Night; the friendly shimmer in the room mainly comes from the candles on the tables and in golden holders on the red walls. And there’s a warm yellow tinge to the blue neon sign above the liquor shelf. It makes no sense.   Klatsche insists it’s tinged with red, but that’s not true. It’s yellow. Yet it doesn’t turn the blue green. It’s nuts. 

‘Of course he ought to be banged up,’

I say.  I’d like to add something clever starting with ‘but’ to explain why he hasn’t been. I can’t think of anything. I’ve been chewing on it for years; we’ve all been chewing on it for years – decades, it feels like. And Faller won’t get the Albanian banged up now. He’ll just get himself into trouble. Gjergj Malaj sent him a vicious warning years ago. Faller’s suffered for it ever since. Malaj won’t warn him off again.

Klatsche knows all this. I don’t need to explain it to him. He just watches us as we throw ourselves at windmills and run into brick walls. He’s the one who scrapes us out of the corners each time and patches us up with a palette of strong drinks and kind words. 

I sigh; we clink bottles.

‘You’re worried about Faller,’ he says.

‘He’s starting to crack up,’ I say. ‘He feels too strong. It’s not good to feel too strong. You forget to take cover. I mean, we’ve been through all that…’

‘Has he done anything that could be dangerous yet?’

‘No idea,’ I say. ‘According to Calabretta, he hinted that he’s planning something soon.’

‘Faller was boasting? Doesn’t sound like him.’

‘He wasn’t. Calabretta reckons he’s going to need him, and that’s

why he let him in on it.’

I light a cigarette; Klatsche pushes over an ashtray.

‘We’ve got a top mole on the team then,’ he says. ‘And I’ll keep my ears open in case anyone’s noticed any, er, disturbances in the Force, or whatever.’ He waves his beer bottle and makes lightsaber noises.

‘But he didn’t say anything to you?’

I shake my head. ‘I met him this morning, and he was just brewing up mysterious stories,’ I say. ‘Nothing specific. I thought he was feeling good, that’s all. Not as crumpled as usual. More like he was having a second spring, if you see what I mean.’

‘That all fits,’ says Klatsche. ‘And if we assume that Faller’s not in love, it must be his second spring as a cop.’ He draws on his cigarette. ‘Fair enough … But the idea of Faller as a lone avenger against organised crime … He’s scaring me.’

‘Faller or the Albanian?’ I ask.

‘The combination, sweetheart.’ He raises his beer bottle and drinks. ‘What’s the story with your car, by the way?’ he asks.

‘Why mention that now?’

He shrugs. ‘Talk of fear, maybe.’

‘Bollocks, Klatsche. I’m not scared of driving.’ I swig my beer. ‘The car broke down,’ I say. ‘I left it in Mecklenburg.’


‘Garage,’ I say, because I don’t dare tell him I just left it where it was.

‘Garage, uh-huh.’ He looks at me.

He knows perfectly well that that’s not true.

He says nothing. We drink up our beer. Outside we can hear a police siren on the Reeperbahn.

Then the door opens and a bunch of customers come in. Three women, five men, early thirties, dressed like hipsters. Klatsche’s bar is transforming slowly but surely from a red-light dive to a trendy

hangout. I bet next year people will come in the mornings and ask if this is a sober rave.

I nip behind the bar, give Klatsche a kiss on the cheek and say, ‘Slip me a couple of beers, I’ve got to go.’

To follow the blog tour and see what other readers think, check out my fellow bloggers thoughts.

Simone Buchholz was born in Hanau in 1972. At university, she studied Philosophy and Literature, worked as a waitress and a columnist, and trained to be a journalist at the prestigious Henri-Nannen-School in Hamburg. In 2016, Simone Buchholz was awarded the Crime Cologne Award as well as runner-up for the German Crime Fiction Prize for Blue Night, which was number one on the KrimiZEIT Best of Crime List for months. She lives in Sankt Pauli, in the heart of Hamburg, with her husband and son. 
Follow the author or twitter at ohneKlippo  

Advance praise for Blue Knight

‘A dark mix of gritty police procedural and rollercoaster ride, swirling with humour and affection, thanks to its feisty protagonist, Chas Riley. Sharp dialogue, an atmospheric setting and an intriguing plot kept me reading into the early hours. Certainly an author to watch’ Off-the-Shelf Books.
‘Blue Night hits hard from page one with its beautifully atmospheric noir feel and a divisive, engaging main character in Chastity Riley – one to watch’ Liz Loves Books.
‘Not a word out of place – memorable characters – an absolute treat!’ Michael J. Malone, author of A Suitable Lie.
‘Had me in its clutches from the very beginning. Exciting, unique and highly more-ish; thanks to Blue
Night, my night was no longer blue’ The Writing Garnet
‘A truly fresh narrative style which slowly lays out an intriguing and complex story. The protagonist, Chastity Riley, is one you are immediately drawn to, a unique and ultimately likeable character in a richly drawn world of vice’ Jen Meds Book Reviews
'Explosive writing, larger-than-life characters, a killer mystery ... Loved it!' LV Hay, author of The Other Twin
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