My new romantic spy novel Screaming Angels published!
To celebrate, I will be giving away one, signed copy of Screaming Angels to my Newsletter readers in a competition on 16 October at 5pm BST. To sign up for the Newsletter before then, click here or go to the menu at the top of this page.
Brina didn’t remember what keelhauling was, but she decided she didn’t want to know. Many of the ship’s crew stared at their feet while others dragged her to the bow. “Do you think this a good idea?” she heard Devlin say to Brindley. “Suppose she dies? She probably will!” “Then we won’t be docking in Tasman.” “She’s only a woman!” “Shut up Devlin. Do it now!” The crewmen lowered Brina over the bow by the length of rope attached to her wrists while another sailor guided the other length of rope to the stern. He worked it under the moving ship’s hull and pulled it taught. “Ready!” he yelled from the stern. Six men lowered Brina to the crashing bow-waves, while three others hauled on the stern rope. Her feet touched the cold water, so she began to take deep breaths, taking her last a moment before her head went under. After that, she understood little of what happened, except that the sea battered her against the barnacle-studded planks of the hull and her lungs began to scream with the agony of asphyxiation. She held on as long as she could, feeling her chest convulse with its primitive urge to breath. The last thing she saw was a patch of light in the bottle-blue water behind her thrashing legs. “You’re a lucky bitch!” a male voice said. “The Captain wouldn’t have revived anyone else but you!”
“I need a shave.” “Let me show you. Take this off first.” She tugged on the collar of his jumpsuit. “Oh no! You’re not getting me naked that quick.” “Ha! You’ll see us naked before too long. Don’t be shy.” “No!” “Alright! Just strip to the waist then.” Omah unfastened the sticky front tab and peeled the smooth, metallic top down to his waist, rubbed his bare chest out of embarrassment and gave Archivist a lopsided grin. Now look in the mirror and say, “Shave!” “Shave! Hey! What’s this! I have a white mark on my chest. Like a key!” “Yes. I thought it was kinda cute when we were shown your body in one of our first briefings.” “Oh god! You mean you’ve seen me naked?” “Sure! All of it. And you’re quite a healthy man.” Omah blushed and replied. “But what does this mark mean? Do you have it?” “No. You’re the only one. We don’t know what it means. You had it when you came to u- … . Oh there, now you’re jumping the gun! Or making me! Let’s do the shave.” “But wait a minute! At least it’s something not blue! And Controller; he seems very emotionless and blank. Are you all robots?” Archivist’s laugh sounded like the delicate titter of a teenage girl. “It sometimes feels like it.” “Androids then? Cyborgs?”
I’m very pleased and proud to announce that my latest book, Screaming Angels, will be published by A-Argus some time in the summer. This story is a historical account of one the strangest deals the British ever did with Soviet Russia, with a romantic twist. If you love romance, this will be right up your street. And if you love aviation tales, especially about Cold War jets, you will also love it.
On a personal note, this book has caused my quite a lot of strife! I already knew about the Rolls Royce Nene engine fiasco, and then I had a strange dream. This became the inspiration for a new book, but the first draft didn’t electrify me, or my beta readers. It seemed to lack emotion, and the plot needed a twist. I sought inspiration in classic romances like Wuthering Heights and Lady Chatterley’s Lover and, six rewrites later, it has a lot of feeling and a great twist! I think I finally got it right. Read on if you want to sample some excerpts!
Only the Vampire Priests understand the Blood Moon Prophecy: “A drop of His blood fills the cup and brings the Blood Moon Dawn.”
“Lots of cool action and drew me well in.” – AHF Magazine.
I once asked Omacron what time seemed like for one who had survived for so long in a tumultuous world. “Time is meaningless,” he said. “Then, what does have meaning?” I asked. “Memory.” This, then, is the story, as recalled by me and those Rememberers, few in number, who survived the last war on Earth. I wasn’t there at the beginning, but I am here now in the tale that continues.
A cup wrought at Earth’s birth, the Holy Grail is brought to Atlantis but lost.
If you can’t get to a book store, you can still get 2 eBooks free by ordering December Radio paperback online at Amazon or Barnesandnoble.com. Simply email me the receipt!
But if you are near a book store, here’s the deal for 2 eBooks:
1. Call or go into any book store in the USA or Waterstones in the UK and order or buy my book (B&N: $16.19, Waterstones: £15.50). This is the cheapest option but you can order online at Amazon or Barnes & Noble and pay delivery costs if you wish!
December Radio by Lazlo Ferran. ISBN-13: 978-1942981473
My other eBooks are priced at up to $9.99 and you can choose any of these formats: pdf, ePub, pdb, lit, html, kindle format. So you can’t lose!
2. And either:
Go to my Facebook page and post a selfie of you with the book there with the title “I bought December Radio” (or on your Instagram or twitter page) and message me.
Or email me a photo of your receipt: email@example.com
Don’t forget to specify which 2 books and formats you want!
Read Chapter One of December Radio in FREE eBook Inchoate: (Short Stories Volume I): on Amazon or Google Play (pdf version only), or start reading the preview at top of the right hand column.
NB. I am sorry but the December Radio eBook is not included in this offer.