As you can see, the guest post and book giveaway is from our next guest on the Crime Cafe podcast, James H. Longmore.
He’s giving away a copy of his psychological thriller, Flanagan (paperback or ebook). To enter the giveaway, just email James at this address: submissions[at]hellboundbookspublishing[dot]com. You have until March 5, 2019, to enter.
And now, for your reading pleasure, an excerpt from the giveaway prize!
READ A SAMPLE FROM FLANAGAN HERE
Chris finished up and flushed the toilet, then idly watched as it filled up again with dark blue, scummy water. He let himself out of the stall and washed his hands in the tepid water that sputtered out from lone working faucet. He tried – but soon gave up – drying his hands beneath the hand-dryer; the breeze it generated was comparable both in sound and strength to an asthmatic wasp.
He exited the restroom and stepped back into the sunlight that hurt his eyes after the cool gloom.
Chris heard voices and his heart sank a little. Rizzo and his grubby mechanic friend were back and by the sounds of their raucous laughter, drunker than ever. He quickened his step and headed back to the pool where Rizzo and Bakker had reclaimed their spectator positions by Helen’s recliner, no doubt attracted like bees around honey the second his wife had exited the pool.
“Hey there, Son,” Rizzo greeted Chris with a fat, drunken grin.
“Oh, hi again,” Chris said. He glanced down at Helen who met his eyes with what he thought was meant to be a reassuring look.
“I do hope you and your good lady wife are enjoying our hospitality.” Rizzo lifted his beer can to his lips and took a noisy slurp from it.
“We are, Mr. Rizzo, thank you.” Chris joined the two men by his wife’s feet. “Call me Robbie, ever’one else does.” The redneck belched beneath his breath and blasted Chris in the face with the rancid stench of beer and low quality weed.
“You got it, Robbie.”
“And I do hope that my friend’s ribald nature didn’t offend your Missus any,” Rizzo said and took a sideways step as if to block Chris’s view of Helen. “Only, he doesn’t get the company of good lookin’ folks that much, so he doesn’t know how to behave exactly.” Rizzo grinned. “He spends so much time with that fat elephant of a sister of his that he prob’ly forgets what a real woman’s supposed to look like.” Rizzo’s speech slurred again; elephant sounding something akin to elerr-phunt.
“And she does look like she’s all real to me,” Bakker sniggered aggressively as he leaned over Helen. “Them’s some fine titties ya got there, Ma’am.” He tugged at Helen’s top, breathing his foul liquor fumes into her face and revealing the rose pink of the very edge of Helen’s areola before she knocked his hand away.
“No!” she barked.
Bakker ignored her and ran a dirty fingernail along the side of Helen’s breast and down along her rib cage. Helen slapped the hand away again and made as if to get up off of the recliner.
“Hey!” Chris snapped.
Rizzo turned to face Chris who stood just short of eyelevel with his chest. “Calm yourself down, son,” he growled, “it’s jus’ the beers talkin, is all.” He placed a broad hand on Chris’s chest and gave him a firm but gentle push to indicate that he really ought to sit down.
As Helen clambered from the recliner, Bakker grabbed at her bikini briefs to yank her back down. The thin material pulled away in his hand to reveal what little of her ass it had covered and the front dug hard into her pussy. Helen yelped and plopped back onto her recliner.
“That’s enough!” Chris growled, and attempted to sidestep Rizzo.
“I said, sit the fuck down.” Rizzo kneed Chris hard in the balls and he crumpled down hard on the recliner by Helen’s feet. Something snapped on the seat’s frame which gave out a loud cracking noise.
Helen struggled against Bakker who had now her pinned to the recliner with one knee on her solar plexus. She lashed out a flailing hand at Bakker’s face, but he bobbed his head to one side and Helen’s fist hit nothing but thin air.
“Like to play rough, do we?” Bakker grinned. He slapped the side of Helen’s breasts full force with a flat hand and she squealed. Then he slapped her again, as if her crying out had actually been encouragement.
“What the fuck?!” Chris scrabbled to his feet, and pushed at Rizzo’s seemingly immovable frame.
“I did ask you to sit down,” Rizzo said, almost apologetically and shoved Chris in the chest. Chris staggered backwards and flew head over ass over the recliner, his arms windmilling as he tried in vain to maintain balance. He landed hard on the stone slabs next to the recliner, his legs entangling with the thing as he struggled to extricate himself from the hard plastic.
In a couple of strides, Rizzo was upon him.
Bakker climbed on top of Helen and the recliner creaked under their combined weight. He positioned himself with his crotch on her belly and her hands pinned beneath his knees. From the bulge in his scruffy jeans that dug into the smooth flesh of her stomach, his arousal at Helen’s all but naked, oiled body was all too apparent.
Chris freed himself from the recliner and scrambled to his feet. “Leave my wife alone!” he shouted with all the bravado he could muster, although his voice betrayed him as fear added a distinct quiver. Then Rizzo punched Chris in the side of the head and white sparks shot across his vision as he went down once more, his bare skin slapping on the hot flags. He scrambled to get back up but Rizzo lashed out with a foot that caught Chris on the back of the head and this time he went down and lay perfectly still.
Pinned beneath Bakker’s weight, Helen watched helplessly as Chris was knocked out cold by the motel manager. She wriggled the best she could, but was no match for Bakker’s sheer weight and brawn. Bakker ground his groin against the smooth dip of Helen’s belly, he was hard and she could see his dick straining against his jeans to be free. “Is this what you want, you prick-teasing bitch?” Bakker snarled. “You want me to fuck you?” He then pulled out a scruffy rag from the back pocket of his oily jeans.
It was just the everyday dirty shred of cloth Helen would have expected any self-respecting gas station attendant to carry; tattered, oil-stained and well-used – only this one was in a sealed baggie.
Bakker extricated the rag from the baggie. “Say, lady,” he said with a sinister grin, pressing the pungent material firm against Helen’s nose, “does this smell like chloroform to you?”
James hails originally from Yorkshire, England having relocated with his family to Houston, Texas in 2010. He has an honors degree in Zoology and a background in sales, marketing and business. Relatively new to the writing arena, his writing style and story telling have already been compared to James Herbert, Richard Laymon, Stephen King, Dan Brown and Robert Ludlum.
An Affiliate Member of the Horror Writer’s Association, and founder of HellBound Books Publishing LLC, James has to date five novels published – ‘Pede, Tenebrion, Flanagan, And Then You Die and The Erotic Odyssey of Colton Forshay – plus Blood and Kisses, his definitive short story collection, all in addition to three novellas (Buds, Feeder and I Am Joe’s Unwanted Penis) and a whole bunch of short stories dotted about in myriad anthologies.
He is also the proprietor of the independent, horror publishing house HellBound Books Publishing LLC.
James also writes screenplays and currently has three under option (a spine-chilling horror, a Tarantino-esque crime caper and an animated family movie). In 2014 he was commissioned by Spectra Records to write a biopic feature on the early life of Bob Marley, and in 2015 was writer for hire on the Kenyan sitcom ‘The Samaritans’.
As if that weren’t enough, James has written and directed a bunch of short movies, winning Best Director in the 2013 Splatterfest film competition and Remi awards at Houston’s Worldfest Film Festival in 2012, 2014 and 2015 – all are viewable on his official website!
Once upon a time, James penned and performed stand-up comedy on the Houston comedy circuit.
James’ writing style has been described as uncompromising, unique and entertaining; he combines highly original ideas with brilliant vocabulary and highly effective yarn spinning in which the story always comes first! Be warned, his work does have a tendency towards the dark side – usually with a rich vein of humor – and there is always that delicious twist at the end!
And Then You Die
The Erotic Odyssey of Colton Forshay
Blood and Kisses
I Am Joe’s Unwanted Penis