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Thursday, August 27, 2020

The Boy With Only One Shoe: An illustrated memoir of wartime life with Bomber Command by John Henry Meller and Caroline Brownbill

 The Boy With Only One Shoe: 

An illustrated memoir of wartime life with Bomber Command 

by John Henry Meller 

The Boy With Only One Shoe: An illustrated memoir of wartime life with  Bomber Command eBook: Meller, John Henry, Brownbill, Caroline: Kindle Store

55,573 .... is the number of Royal Air Force Bomber Command aircrew who lost their lives during World War 2. That's more than the total who serve in Britain's RAF today.
With a terrifying 46% combat attrition rate, an Avro Lancaster Bomber was one of the most dangerous places to be during the conflict. Yet no one was enlisted to become aircrew: all were volunteers. So, at a time when Britain stood resolute in its fight against tyranny and oppression, young men from across the globe did just that.

At just 18 years old, John Henry Meller was one such man.
The ordeals and sacrifices endured by John and his generation were crucial to the success of the Allied nations.

In the words of Winston Churchill, Great Britain's wartime leader:
"Hitler knows that he will have to break us in this island or lose the war. If we can stand up to him, all Europe may be free and the life of the world may move forward into broad, sunlit uplands ...... Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves that, if the British Empire and the Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, "This was their finest hour."

As few remain to bear witness to that time, John - together with daughter Caroline Brownbill - have chosen to document his vivid recollections of wartime life.

Join him as he shares what it was like to crew a Lancaster over Europe, during the darkest days of the War.

Buy Your Copy Of The Boy With Only One Shoe

Wednesday, August 26, 2020

Tuesday, August 25, 2020

Elizabeth Hamilton Guarino and Pinky Doodle Bug!

Elizabeth Hamilton Guarino 


Pinky Doodle Bug! 



Elizabeth Hamilton Guarino is one of America's most trusted mindset, leadership and personal & corporate development consultants. 

As the Founder and CEO of Best Ever You and Compliance4, Elizabeth has helped thousands around the globe be their best and achieve world-class excellence. 

As a trusted leader, influencer, consultant, trainer and speaker and Hay House author, Elizabeth provides development and training to individuals and organizations around the world.

Elizabeth is an honors graduate of St. Ambrose University and currently attends Harvard Business School for Leadership.

Friday, August 14, 2020

Break - The Movie -DVD

Break - The Movie

 Break [DVD]

Spencer Pryde (Gittins) is a promising snooker player caught up in London's gang culture of drugs and knife crime. Estranged from his father (Mably) who is serving a lengthy prison sentence, Spencer lives on a rough estate with his mother Cathy and spends his time hanging out at the local snooker hall, owned by retired gangland figure Ray (Hauer).

Spencer seems destined to follow in his father s footsteps until a seemingly chance encounter with a stranger named Vincent Qiang (Yip) presents him with an opportunity to play in a prestigious tournament in Beijing. But when Spencer learns that his father has been pulling the strings and is working with Qiang, he rails against their attempt to help him.

Then an insurmountable debt to Ray leaves Spencer with a dilemma; stay and face the music or use the talent he has been blessed with and make a break for a better life.

Bonus features:

  • Behind-the-scenes press kit

  • Cast and crew interviews
  • Trailers
  • Break is a heart-warming UK thriller set in London, Beijing and Sheffield's iconic Crucible theatre. The film stars Sam Gittins (Obey, Ray and Liz, The Smoke), David Yip (Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom), Luke Mably (Exam, 28 Days Later), BAFTA winner Adam Deacon (The Intent 2, Shank, Kidulthood) and Golden Globe winner Rutger Hauer in his final screen role (Blade Runner, The Hitcher, True Blood). Also starring Jamie Foreman, Terri Dwyer and features appearance from British snooker star Jack Lisowski, Chinese sensation Liang Wenbo and World Snooker Champion Ken Doherty.

    Pre-Order Your Copy Of Break

    Written In The Stars by Ruth Brooks - Published by Pegasus Publishers

    Written In The Stars 

    by Ruth Brooks


    What if you met your idol?

    A chance meeting on a plane. Two people's destinies collide.

    Flight attendant, Amy Armstrong, is infatuated with Zach Hayes, the lead singer with Sovereign X. When he appears on her flight, she's blindsided; can she keep her emotions in check? Can she make a lasting impression?

    Two years later and now a journalist, Amy encounters him again with a new opportunity to make an impact... The sexual chemistry between them is amazing. But now she's in a serious relationship with Will, the man she loves... She thought Will was ‘the One', or is he? Should she seize the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see what may happen with Zach?

    Surely their fate is Written in the Stars, but what will the consequences be? Will Amy choose the love of her life or the man of her fantasies?

    Pre-Order Written In The Stars

    Saturday, August 8, 2020

    Take a Simple Drive to a Healthier Life: and Live Longer Too! by Roger Smith

    Take a Simple Drive to a Healthier Life: 

    and Live Longer Too! 

    by Roger Smith  

    Take a Simple Drive to a Healthier Life: and Live Longer Too! (English Edition) Versión Kindle

    “You don’t know what you have until it’s gone”. This saying is especially true for your health.  Random luck plays a large role, but you can make your own luck as well.

    With over 25 years of experience in family medical practice, Dr. Roger Smith has seen many telling examples of this. 

    Just as you need to provide sufficient care for your car to keep it running well, your own personal vehicle (your body) is no different. If you neglect to service your car or ignore warning signs of trouble, you risk a major breakdown. Neglecting your car may be expensive, but at least it’s replaceable. Unlike your body – where it’s not so easy to undo years of neglect.

    But with the right attention and personal effort, you will be able to perform a skilful U-turn and your health may improve dramatically.

    So come along for a simple drive to a healthier life, and live longer too! 

    Download Your Copy Now 

    Friday, August 7, 2020

    The Fathers, the Sons and the Anxious Ghost by Jamie Adams

    The Fathers, the Sons and the Anxious Ghost 

    by Jamie Adams

     The Fathers, the Sons and the Anxious Ghost

    Three guys in their thirties have something in common. Their children all go to the same school. One day a tragic event leads to them having to deal with a lurking aftermath which draws them into each other’s lives and causes them to rethink their attitudes to just about everything.

    The children tell the second part of this story, ten years after the initial events. The dust seems to have settled until one of them uncovers information that throws everything back into chaos.

    The third part… well that will have to wait.

    Buy Your Copy Of 

    The Fathers, the Sons and the Anxious Ghost

    Thursday, August 6, 2020

    The Tap-Dancing Pigeon of Covent Garden by Serena Hassan

    The Tap-Dancing Pigeon of Covent Garden 
    by Serena Hassan

    The Tap-Dancing Pigeon of Covent Garden

    Have you ever seen a pigeon tap-dance? Or heard of a pigeon that loves opera? 

    THE TAP-DANCING PIGEON OF COVENT GARDEN is a charming story that will touch your heart and make you laugh.

    It’s all about Pigeon, who leaves the family nest and travels to London to find his passion in life and a place he can truly call home . . .

    Fly Over To Amazon And 
    Buy Your Copy Of 

    The Girl from the Hermitage by Molly Gartland

    The Girl from the Hermitage 

    by Molly Gartland

    The Girl from the Hermitage

    It is December 1941, and eight-year-old Galina and her friend Vera are caught in the siege of Leningrad, eating soup made of wallpaper, with the occasional luxury of a dead rat. Galina’s artist father Mikhail has been kept away from the front to help save the treasures of the Hermitage. Its cellars could now provide a safe haven, provided Mikhail can navigate the perils of a portrait commission from one of Stalin’s colonels.

    Nearly forty years later, Galina herself is a teacher at the Leningrad Art Institute. What ought to be a celebratory weekend at her forest dacha turns sour when she makes an unwelcome discovery. The painting she embarks upon that day will hold a grim significance for the rest of her life, as the old Soviet Union makes way for the new Russia and Galina’s familiar world changes out of all recognition.

    Warm, wise and utterly enthralling, Molly Gartland’s debut novel guides us from the old communist world, with its obvious terrors and its more surprising comforts, into the glitz and bling of 21st-century St Petersburg. Galina’s story is at once a compelling page-turner and an insightful meditation on ageing and nostalgia.

    Buy Your Copy Of The Girl From The Hermitage

    James Bond - No Time To Die by Beth Macari

    No Time To Die 
    by Beth Macari

    James Bond 007

    No Time To Die: can it realistically still be released this year ...

    Listen to No Time To Die 

    Echo Valley by Jennifer Vaughn

    Echo Valley: 

    A power hungry politician, his burning secret, and the unyielding young mother caught in the middle.

    by Jennifer Vaughn 

    Echo Valley: A Power Hungry Politician, His Burning Secret, and ...

    Bo Carmichael thought Echo Valley, New Hampshire, was in her rear view mirror. Circumstances lead her straight back. Now, the one-time aspiring doctor is raising a son she never planned on having and toiling away as a hairdresser to pay the bills. 

    When her boss hands her a plum assignment--preparing the family of a leading presidential candidate for a photo shoot--Bo unwittingly stumbles into a scandalous encounter between the happily-married senator and his exquisite female staffer.

    She becomes an unacceptable risk. To keep the potential president's dirty little secret under wraps, his loyal operative constructs a web of lies that paint Bo as a street-level criminal. She retreats to the one place that used to make her feel safe--her grandfather's farm tucked away in the Great North Woods.

    Detective Beckett Brady dissects the odd angles of this case. Guided by a hot-blooded yet inexplicable bond to Bo, he recruits his former mentor to help unravel the hastily hatched operation to keep Bo quiet. As powerful forces close in, Beck joins Bo at the farm, neither of them expecting the furious rush of desire almost as palpable as the danger they face.

    Buy Your Copy Of Echo Valley 

    Monday, August 3, 2020

    Pitch Deck with suggested Actors by Readers PLUS CHAPTER TITLES and Read The First Chapter Of Write To Survive - Book Two In The Write To Kill Series!

    Book one, Write to Kill, follows the misadventures of a debt ridden, budding author, who gets involved with London underground boss, Mad Dog Maddox. The author commits a heinous crime for money and then starts to write a book based on his experience.


    EYEING the blurry headlights in the rear-view mirror, I caught my eye and glanced at the person staring back.
    I didn’t recognise myself.
    Or what I imagined I was about to become. 
    As I drove on the M40, a shade after eleven on a miserable, wet Saturday evening in November, a number of cars, one straight up my backside, creating spray from the saturated tarmac, were flashing me to get out of their way, even though my right foot was pressed hard, flat out on the metal, hitting seventy. Which is an accomplishment for my ageing car, believe me.
    The downpour that had been rhythmically drumming on my windscreen most of the journey, temporarily making driving treacherous, due to only one functioning windscreen wiper, had finally stopped lashing it down. Some moron, probably pissed after a night out a few days ago had completely ripped off the passenger side wiper when my car was parked close to the building where I live but luckily, if you can call it that, had left the driver’s in place, otherwise I'd have been well and truly fucked and unable to go to my ‘so called’ business meeting tonight.
    You may be thinking why on earth am I going to a meeting on a Saturday night, especially having left a warm bed with an exceptionally beautiful girl under the duvet, but this was not like any other meeting, I can assure you of that. There was no office, no board room, or even colleagues. It was going to be just the two of us, in a dilapidated warehouse, in a deserted place, in the middle of nowhere, on a day and at a time that suited him. 


    TAKING a long final pull of a cigarette until there was no more to smoke, I flicked the butt through the small gap I’d left open at the top of the window, out into the chill wet darkness. But as quick as the remaining ash hit the outside world, it flew back in and over my black T-shirt. Dusting the ash into my top rather than off it, I shifted from third to fourth gear.
    The thought of what I'd agreed to do accelerated in my mind as I veered from the inside lane, over the other two and exited at junction two. Taking a narrow lane, a mile down the road, I lit another cigarette, the last of the pack, and threw the empty packet onto the passenger side floor, to join the many others that had made their home there.
    This was my fifth in the hour since I’d left my flat, with an attractive brunette asleep in my bed. I really must give up these damn things. No, not the brunette, I'm not that stupid. Or am I? The fags. I’ve been saying that for months though, maybe a year, I just can’t kill the habit, even though I know that one day, they could eventually kill me.
    I was nervous. Very nervous. Why? Because in a few minutes, in the building that I was approaching, in this isolated area in Buckinghamshire, I would be meeting him.


    TURNING off the country lane in total darkness, with just my headlights as a guide, I took a right, then a left, which led into an uneven forecourt, full of potholes and puddles, and pulled up outside the deserted derelict building. How I managed to find this place from the directions I’d been given was a miracle, especially with only a half moon for light, and the fact that I don’t have a sat nav as my car is it’s an antique. It even has a cassette player, that’s how ancient it is. But it does have electric windows and, my pride and joy, pop-up lights. Also, being stuck out in the countryside, I had no signal on my phone to get Google maps or any other map app. It was dark, with not a light in sight and as I checked the time on my mobile it beeped as I did so, indicating that I had only eight percent of juice left.
    Why didn’t I charge it before I left home?
    Arriving ten minutes early, which is a feat for me, as people have said that I'll be late for my own funeral, hopefully this won’t be it, I lit another cigarette, with the remains of the cigarette I was smoking. Keeping my headlights on full beam, I followed the stream of light that captured the deepening evening mist and hesitantly made my way inside the shell of the warehouse.
    As I stepped in, with the luminosity of the moon my only light, I disturbed a kit of pigeons that were pecking at the soggy floor. They cocked their heads in my direction, their beady eyes staring at me, then flew off in different directions to the highest point of the roof, leaving their white and brown excrement all over the grey coloured concrete.
    I trod carefully so as not to step into the mass of bird crap as I observed the vast vacant, fragmented construction, made of corrugated metal, with gaps in the roof giving the pigeons the freedom to fly in and out at their leisure. I checked my phone, now with just seven percent juice left and only five minutes to our meeting. Five minutes until he arrives. That’s if he’s punctual. Again, I began to wonder what the hell was I doing? Why was I doing this? Why am I here? I whispered those questions, out loud, to no one, but me, as I waited patiently but nervously in this tin hub of a desperate building.
    These were the same questions that had been going over and over in my head since I’d left my flat, after making passionate love to that girl, Lisa, the petite, grass green-eyed brunette beneath the duvet, over an hour earlier.
    That’s why I didn’t charge my phone.
    The same girl who I'd been seeing for the past few months, which is the longest relationship I’ve been in for three years. All the others within that time, and there have been quite a few, only lasted the night. Lisa and I met at a friend of a friend's party in Clerkenwell. She's a nurse, seven years younger than me, lives in North West London, not far from me, a couple of miles or so, where she shares a flat with four friends, all colleagues at The Royal Free in Hampstead. She stays over at mine at the weekends and sometimes during the week. I assume so she can get away from talking shop twenty-four seven. We hit it off straight away, it was like fate really, unlike what I'm about to do, but she knows nothing of what I am getting myself into. She knows nothing of this darker side of me. Come to think of it, I knew nothing of this darker side of me. All she knows, is that I’m a struggling first-time author, and I mean struggling, not with writer’s block, well maybe, but financially.
    My bank account was way, way over its overdraft, in fact, it was on the brink of being frozen. The rent on my flat was four months late, and trust me, it isn’t cheap. I hadn’t paid a single utility bill for months or my council tax, and to top it all off, along with the bailiffs on my case, I had menacing loan sharks circling and banging on my door every other day, wanting to break my legs, unless I paid them what I owed, with huge interest. You see, my mountain of debt began when I lost my job as office manager for an estate agency six months ago, a month after I moved into this flat. They closed the branch without any warning at all and since then I’ve struggled to find another job. Believe me, I’ve tried. So, while I’ve been looking, I’ve been trying to fulfil a lifelong dream, which is to write a book and become a bestselling author. I’ve written a few short stories before but I’ve always wanted to write a novel.
    But I was a long way off becoming a bestselling author and signing copies at Waterstones. Turns out that writing a bestselling novel is much harder than you might think. I'd written nothing, maybe a thousand words of nothing, that’s all, then not another word, not even a letter. I have what author’s call writer’s block, like I said. I was way behind where I wanted to be with my first draft. My editor, well, I say my editor. My mate who has lived in London for a number of years, had some time ago emailed his mum, who lives in New York, a short story of mine. His mum, a semi-retired editor, who used to edit many books for a number of top USA Today bestselling authors, was so impressed with my writing and one of my short stories, that she encouraged me to write that first novel. I couldn’t turn down this opportunity and thankfully last month, she agreed to be my editor, on the understanding that firstly, the book will be written within three months, as she has another project scheduled for the beginning of next year, no pressure there then, and secondly, I will pay her a fee once the book is published, and the royalties start to roll in.  
    Whenever that will be. If it ever happens.
    She is very sweet, reminds me of my mum. God bless her.
    So, every couple of days my editor sends me an email asking when the first couple of chapters will be available for editing. Every reply I return says the same thing. In a few days. But will I ever get this book finished or even properly started? Of course, it’s my dream like I’ve said, but with my plummeting financial situation, not only did I need money to pay thousands to get people off my back, I needed money just to live day to day, and having none and pretending I had to Lisa, completely threw me from my writing.
    My money worries played on my mind but I still don't know why I’d agreed to do what I’m about to do. Well I do. The dough. But I couldn’t back out now, even if I wanted to, and believe me, I did. I’d given my word and he’s not the kind of man you back down to. No way. Once you’ve given your word, you keep to your word. Or you’ll face the consequences. And I didn't want to face mine. 
    You see, with him, once you’ve shaken hands, you’ve shaken hands.
    Otherwise you won't have a hand to shake.
    Get my drift.

    Buy Your Copy Of 

    Book two, Write to Survive, finds the aspiring author, and his girlfriend Lisa, struggling to cope with the fallout from his actions. As Mad Dog Maddox lives up to his name, the couple must work as a team to survive his death threats.

    Write To Survive : A Deadline Becomes A Lifeline (Write To Kill Book 1)

    Buy Your Copy Of 

    Chapter titles in 
    Write To Survive 

    Sherlock Holmes 



    Molly’s Game

    Staying Alive



    Harry Kane

    A & E

    Blue Door





    Bobby Charlton


    Courthouse Hotel

    James Bond

    Pretty Woman


    Miss Moneypenny

    Dempsey and Makepeace



    Talk Sport


    Pot of Gold


    Dressed to Kill


    Dom Perignon


    Ocean Eyes

    Sweet Dreams

    Bottom Dollar




    Sex Scene

    Fish and Chips



    Motley Crew

    Read the first chapter of 
    Write To Survive


           THE train was motionless.   

    Unlike my state of mind.

    Lisa and I were on the Jubilee line, underground, between St John’s Wood and Baker Street, the former home of the fictional Sherlock Holmes. I sincerely hoped a similarly astute detective wasn’t on my case. We’d been stalled and waiting, in a carriage dotted with disparate commuters, for a couple of minutes. It was eleven-fifteen. Forty-five minutes until the arranged meeting at noon with Jennifer, at her favourite spot, the Tower of London.

    Earlier, before we’d even stepped out of the flat, I’d already received three messages from Mad Dog Maddox, threatening to call the police and to kill Lisa if I didn’t own up to his stepdaughter that I’d murdered his son-in-law. Her husband.

    Being underground, with no signal, gave me some respite from him.

    Lisa, sat to my left, in tight faded blue jeans, a white T-shirt and a black leather jacket, had been up all night, chain smoking whilst pacing the flat. Understandably she was ever so slightly on edge since I’d informed her that her life was on the line.

    As the train started to move, an attractive young woman, blonde, mid-twenties, wearing a smart navy blue trouser suit, stood up and made her way over to the doors, leaving a Metro newspaper on her seat, which was directly opposite mine. I thought about picking up the paper to see if the story of my crime was still newsworthy. I decided against it. The morning news on the radio before we’d left the flat hadn’t mentioned the murder either, it seemed it was old news now, with no fresh developments such as an imminent arrest, much to my relief.

    Had the investigation died down?

    With no one immediately around us in the carriage now, I ventured conversation.

    “You okay baby?” I asked Lisa.

    “Am I okay? Really! Am I okay? What do you think?” The sarcasm was cutting. She leaned in to me to speak under her breath, right into my ear.

    “Well, I’m just peachy! I mean, I used a murder weapon for making my lunch the other day, I slept with a dead man’s finger in the bedside table next to me, my boyfriend is a murderer, and now I’m on my way to meet the wife of the guy he murdered. And to top it all off, her stepfather wants to kill me. I’ve never been fucking better!”

    “Babe, please keep your voice down, you don’t know who’s on the train.”

    “Oh sorry, too loud for you?”

    “You could say that.”

    “They’ll be knocking on the door for you any day anyway. It’s going to be either the police taking you away in handcuffs, Mad Dog with a gun to my head or the loan sharks who want to put you in a wheelchair.”

    “Yeah, don’t remind me, I know that, but you don’t have to shout about it. Oh, and thanks by the way.”

    “Thanks for what?”

    “For telling them yesterday that I’d moved away.”

    “I don’t think they believed me. I did have other things on my mind.”

    “Well, it did the job.”

    “Why don’t you just pay them and get them off your back, you’ve got the money now after what you did.”

    “I know what I did and I may need the money.”

    “For what, running away?”

    “Come on baby, I thought you were with me?”

    “I am, but I did a lot of thinking last night.”


    “I can’t believe you’re so blasé about what you’ve done, about this, and, and writing a book about it, I mean come on.”

    “Believe you me, I’m not blasé. I’m scared. Scared shitless. Terrified in fact. It’s not the bailiffs, the loan sharks or even Mad Dog Maddox, it’s being caught by the police. I can’t go to jail; I’m not cut out for it. And with the book, it’s a bit of an escape for me.”

    “Escape? How can that be, you’re reliving every moment by writing about what you did.”

    “What I mean is… fuck, I don’t know what I mean. It just helps me forget; I mean forget what I did for a moment okay, it’s about being an author, you know very well that is my dream.”

    “Yes, I get that, but your dream of becoming an author has become a true living nightmare,” Lisa spelt out.

    “I know that, but, you’ve got to admit, it makes an awesome read.”

    “There you go again, being fucking blasé.”

    “I’m not, I’m just….”

    “I just don’t get it, why did you do it?”

    “I’ve told you, the money, but if I could turn back time, I would. I just got caught up with a bad crowd and then it escalated to such an extent, it was too late to take a step back.”

    “You could’ve told him that you didn’t want to do it,” Lisa continued.

    “Like I’ve said, there was no chance. He’s not the type to accept that, anyway he would’ve cut my hands off.”

    “But look, look at you now. Look at me. Look at us, for God’s sake.”

    “I know. I’m sorry.”

    We sat in silence while I pondered the potential response to my next thought.

    “There’s something else.”

    “Jesus, what now?”


    “What do you mean CCTV?”

    “Well, I was thinking in bed last night, as I couldn’t sleep.”

    “Yeah, no sleep, tell me about it.”

    “I know, I know, but it’s the CCTV. Cameras. I’m not sure, I’m just not sure if there were any on the road or surrounding areas that could have captured the moment.”

    “The moment?”

    “Yes, you know, the moment that I killed him.”

    “Oh, my God, didn’t you look?”  Lisa gasped.

    “Keep your voice down. No, of course not. I’ve not done this before. I just….”

    “I know what we’ve got to do, we, I mean you, you have to go back and check.”

    “What, back to the murder scene?”


    “No way, no fucking way.”

    “You have to,” Lisa raised her voice.

    “Keep your voice down, people will hear.”

    “Then what?”

    “Let me think.”

    “Huh! If only you had done a bit of thinking in the first place, before you got yourself into this bloody mess, and dragged me right in it.”

    The train came to a halt again and when I looked up I saw we were at Westminster station where we had to change for the Circle line. I grabbed Lisa’s hand.

    “We need to change here.”

    Lisa snatched her hand away from mine as we alighted the train and walked in stony silence through the station towards the platform for the eastbound Circle line train.

    Eight stops to Tower Hill.

    As we stood on the crowded platform the sound of the approaching train would have drowned out any conversation had we actually been talking to one another at that point. Just then I felt the rush of air ahead of the train as it arrived.

    “Come on, let’s get on,” I suggested, as I placed my hand behind Lisa, letting her get on first. I may be a murderer, but I was still a gentleman.

    The train was unusually busy for this time of day, with every seat occupied. Standing behind a guy, who’s rucksack was slamming into me with every jolt of the train, I stared into the darkness of the tunnel. Even though it was November, I began to perspire, especially cooped up like sardines in a tin. I felt a drop of sweat fall from the back of my neck against the inside of my jacket collar.

    And just then, I wondered if or when my collar would be felt by the Old Bill.

    Once again our train was stalled, this time between Mansion House and Cannon Street. Fucking trains. I looked at Lisa. She looked at me. Her eyes were melancholic with shadows of exhaustion beneath. The guilt ran through me as the train began to move once again through the tunnel. The guy with the rucksack alighted at Monument.

    Next stop, Tower Hill.

    Actors As Suggested By Readers



    Book three, Write to Live, set in New York, the final instalment, is currently being written.