DARK CRIME THRILLER (Adult 18yrs+)
For those readers who love a dark, gritty crime thriller, we are excited to introduce you to COLD CALL by Colin Llewelyn Chapman. Described as being ‘a cross between Broadchurch and Luther… Martina Cole and Fifty Shades‘, I cannot wait to review this one very soon! Not a book to read alone or in the dead of night, or so I am told, but that is when I do most of my reading and I’m sure the atmosphere will lead to more tension and suspense! The reader’s discretion is advised and an 18yr+ reader is strongly recommended due to some of the content.
Author: Colin Llewelyn Chapman
Release Date: October 2014
Publisher: Percy Publishing
Genre: Dark crime/thriller
Length: 300 pages
Synopsis: Wealthy entrepreneur Robin Bradford had it all – the house, the cars, the fine dining – and he lost it all. All except Lizzie, his perfect, loving girlfriend. Down on his luck and with no immediate prospects in business, Robin’s energies found another outlet, Just a little something spicy to bide his time until his financial world recovered, leading him down a very seedy path, onto a very rocky road. Time however was all he had, and all he was going to get.
“A FANTASTIC FAST PACED PAGE TURNER”
About an hour later Robin reached his destination, a busy car park a stone’s throw from the Sea Front. Riffling through his pockets, he counted his change as he stood in front of the parking meter. “Bollocks!” He didn’t have enough coins to meet the two hour charge, but then glancing around the parking lot he decided to chance his luck. He beat a path through the hordes of shoppers, tourists, loafers and vagrants that congregated around the town centre, eventually arriving at the Tango Top-Up Sun Bed Salon. This was the facade behind which Tamsin and Marina’s knocking shop plied its trade. On the face of it the place was a reputable tanning salon, doing a roaring trade among Southend’s innumerable wannabe WAGS. Young women seeking that healthy orange glow to impress the local bar-brawling men, fixated on having trophy wives and glamorous girlfriends to show off down the Seafront. The crafty tanning shop owner let out the upstairs room to the two harlots for a nice handful of cash, which they palmed his way once a week. No invoices, no questions, and a discount on services if and when he needed relief. As instructed, Robin approached the receptionist and asked where the Therapies Room could be found. She obligingly led him through the shop and into a back room which housed a long staircase, leading up and out of view.
“Up there, Sir. Ring the bell at the top.”
“Thank you, Darling!” he replied, smiling. His charms were wasted on her, though. She knew exactly who he was and what he was: a punter.
The staircase turned halfway up to reveal a large, royal blue door. Covered in an array of different locks, it was obviously designed to prevent the Old Bill, disgruntled clients and irate wives from getting at the working girls. Robin pressed the buzzer on the small intercom and waited somewhat impatiently for a reply. As he stood shuffling from foot to foot, wringing his hands in anticipation, he felt a twinge of fear. Stories of mugged punters and blackmail victims started to play out in his mind.
What if I get inside and some big beefcake robs me?
What if the police raid the place while I’m ankles deep in a tom?
What if they try and blackmail me?
But the ever present ‘what if’s’ were quickly beaten back down by a much more pressing matter: Robin’s rampant desire to satisfy the lustful urges seething in his loins.
The silver, pepper-pot fronted intercom speaker crackled into life and brought Robin’s mind back into line instantly.
“Hello! Who is it, please?”
Despite having already passed the first line of defence, namely the drone working the ‘Front of House’, Robin was subjected to several encrypted verbal trials from the intercom. While it was gabbling away at him, asking him all sorts of trivial questions, he started to become distracted by an idea that the voice coming from the silver box of buttons seemed vaguely familiar. No matter how hard he thought, he couldn’t place it; the sexy overtones disguised her natural voice.
At last the door opened. Robin surveyed his potential purchase, beginning at her black high-heeled shoes and sheer hold-ups. Moving on up, he paused briefly at her lacy red knickers, a matching brassiere barely restraining her ample breasts. When he reached her dark tousled hair, his mouth fell open.
“Fuck me! …You?”
It would have been hard to say at that point who was the more alarmed, Robin or his lacy lady.
Colin, 45, has worked in Construction throughout his career. He has three children aged from 12 to 18, and two step-children. Son of a former gamekeeper, he is still a country boy at heart! He described his childhood as “brilliant”, benefiting as he did from fantastic loving parents, and the joy of growing up in the beautiful Essex countryside.
Facebook: Colin Llewelyn Chapman-Author