OUT NOW! Dead-End Jobs: A Hitman Anthology. Edited by Andy Rausch

DEAD-END JOBS: A HITMAN ANTHOLOGY edited by Andy Rausch

‘Contract killers have long been a point of interest for readers of crime fiction and action film fans. Dead-End Jobs: A Hitman Anthology offers up eighteen works of short fiction from some of the hottest writers in the business. While the stories all depict professional killers, they are wildly different in their tone and the styles in which they are written, as well as the way they are depicted and the point-of-view from which they’re told.

Some of these killers are seasoned professionals and others are new to the killing game. Some stories find their settings in urban locales such as New York City or Los Angeles and others in backwater rural locations. There are also contract killers of every stripe. Some stories depict the traditional organized crime gunmen while others feature corner boys doing the bidding of neighborhood drug dealers and the like. The stories in this collection are fast-paced and action-packed.

Just as there are contract killers of varying pedigrees here, Dead-End Jobs features the writing of veteran wordsmiths such as Joe R. Lansdale, Max Allan Collins, and Stephen Spignesi, as well as new but equally exciting writers. Each author in this collection is as skilled as the hitters depicted in the stories. But their weapons are words instead of rifles and pistols, and every one absolutely kills here.

Praise for DEAD-END JOBS:

“An incredible collection of powerful and haunting stories that exist in that shadowy realm between tragedy, nihilism and noir.” —S.A. Cosby, author of Blacktop Wasteland’

DEAD-END JOBS: A HITMAN ANTHOLOGY edited by Andy Rausch — Published by All Due Respect, an imprint of Down & Out Books (June 2021)

• Trade Paperback (ISBN-13: 978-1-64396-212-2) — $17.95 includes FREE digital formats!
• eBook Formats — $6.99

The link to download the ebook (as a .zip file with three popular digital formats) may be found on your customer receipt.

Also available from the following retailers …

• Amazon — Trade Paperback | eBook
• Amazon UK — Trade Paperback | eBook
• Barnes & Noble — Trade Paperback | eBook
• iTunes — eBook
• Kobo — eBook
• Play — eBook

Tommy Bennett – Hitman For Sale!

Dead-End Jobs: A Hitman Anthology – edited by Andy Rausch, will be published by All Due Respect/ Down& Out Books on the 11th June. As well as stories from the likes of Joe R. Lansdale, Max Allan Collins, & Paul Heatley, the anthology also includes a yarn from me. ‘Solitary Man‘ has my ageing hit man protagonist getting up to no good in East London.

Praise for DEAD-END JOBS:

“An incredible collection of powerful and haunting stories that exist in that shadowy realm between tragedy, nihilism and noir.” —S.A. Cosby, author of Blacktop Wasteland

You can pre-order Dead-End Jobs: A Hitman Anthology here.

And to coincide with the publication of Dead-End Jobs, the electronic versions of my FIRST TWO Tommy Bennett books are now on sale for 99p/ 99c!

LAST YEAR’S MAN

A troubled, ageing hit man leaves London and returns to his hometown in the north east of England hoping for peace. But the ghosts of his past return to haunt him. Last Year’s Man is a violent and blackly comic slice of Brit Grit noir.

MAN OF THE WORLD

Ageing hit-man Tommy Bennett left London and returned to his hometown of Seatown, hoping for respite from the ghosts of the violent past that haunted him. However, things don’t go to plan and trouble and violence soon follow Tommy to Seatown. Tommy is soon embroiled in Seatown’s underworld and his hopes of a peaceful retirement are dashed. Tommy deliberates whether or not to leave Seatown and return to London. Or even leave Great Britain altogether. So, he heads back to London where violence and mayhem await him.

HAVE A GANDER, IF YOU’RE THAT WAY INCLINED!

Coming soon … Dead End Jobs: A Hitman Anthology. Edited by Andy Rausch

With stories from Joe R. Lansdale, Max Allan Collins, Chris Miller, Rob Pierce, Tom Pitts, Paul D. Brazill and more …

Published by All Due Respect.

A Story For Sunday: The Weather Prophet

The Weather Prophet

It had been another one of those seemingly endless days when, like King Midas in reverse, everything I touched turned to shit. True, cold calling was a thankless and futile task at the best of times. In fact, most people in the company hated it but me, well, I just seemed to have a knack for it. A silver tongue. An innate ability to worm my way into people’s affections. To get them to fork out their hard earned cash for something they neither needed nor desired. To sell ice cream to Eskimos, as Foley, my boss, said. But recently, knockback had followed knockback and I’d started to feel as if I was losing my touch. I could see the predatory looks in the eyes of the young Turks who were so eager to take my position as top dog in Premier Properties. Something I was not going to allow happen, for sure.

The working day eventually ground painfully to a halt and I inevitably ended up sitting by myself, drowning my sorrows in a dreary hotel bar, staring out of the window as the autumn rain lashed the deserted car park. Letting my resentment bubble and boil. As was my wont.

“Think there’s a storm on the way?” said Shelley, the pasty-faced barmaid, as she collected the half-empty glasses from the table next to mine. An uproarious group of young women had sat there for a while, knocking back tequila slammers and spewing out dirty jokes. A tiddly hen-party that had called in to shelter from the rain. I’d attempted to start a conversation with the dowdiest but the women had quickly made a hasty exit, of course.

“Do I look like a weatherman?” I said to Shelley, and glared at her. I didn’t need her pity-induced small talk today, that was for sure. The Half-Moon Hotel was a charmless place, catering to travelling salesmen for the most part but it was situated halfway between my office and my apartment and I called in after work most evenings for a drink or two. I occasionally chatted with Shelley, coming on all empathetic as she prattled on about her tedious family. Her monotonous life. On days like this, however, I preferred to get drunk in the company of my own self-loathing, thank you very much.

Shelley flushed and went behind the bar, noisily restocking the fridge with overpriced bottles of beer. Muttering under her breath. Her angelic exterior quickly crumbling. Predictably showing her true colours.

But then, most people were predictable, truth be told. They just couldn’t see outside the limits of their own experience. Couldn’t think outside the box, as Foley, would have said. They had a paucity of imagination.

When most people first clapped eyes on me, for example, their initial reaction was usually one of revulsion, followed quickly, perhaps, by pity. Sometimes hilarity. And maybe I would have been the same as them if I hadn’t been born a hunchback. Maybe I’d have been just as blinkered in my worldview but my disability gave me a unique perspective on life. Gave me an edge, really. A liberating cruelty.

There were many worse things than being a freak, after all. Being ordinary, mediocre, drab were much, much worse. Like Shelley. She was a mousey blonde with a mousey personality. One of life’s perpetual drudges. She did, of occasion, have her uses though and so I thought it best to make my peace with her. I limped over to the bar and gave her a weak smile? The limp? Oh, that was a fake, apart from the hump I was in the best of health but better to be hung for a sheep than a lamb.

“Sorry about being so grumpy, Shelley,” I said, drooling a little. Yeah, that was fake, too. I wiped my mouth with a napkin and put on a sigh.

Shelley beamed a 100 watt grin.

“No problem, Ed, we all have our off-days.”

If the time was right, I would, perhaps, have gone into a long moan-ologue about how every day was an off-day for someone with my… problems but I wasn’t in the mood for a pity party so I just ordered another gin and tonic and then hobbled back to my seat, quickly followed by Shelley, who placed the drink on my table with an exaggerated flourish before heading back behind the bar.

A storm had indeed picked up, the sound of the rainfall mercifully drowning out the Joni Mitchell songs that were leaking out of the sound system. The front door noisily burst open and a group of shiny-happy-people loudly rushed in, eager to get out of the downpour. Two men and two women. Mid-thirties. All nice enough looking and well turned out in clothes that were fashionable but not overtly so. One of them spotted me looking over and turned to his friends. Whispered. They glanced over furtively and smiled uncomfortably. Ordered their drinks and retreated to a table as far away from me as possible.

Any other night, I would have had some sport with them. Maybe shuffled over and tripped so that I fell into their laps, accidently grabbing one of the women’s breasts. But today I had little energy for anything. I picked up my briefcase and took out a paperback book that I’d bought from a second-hand book shop during my lunch break. Sniffed it. Stroked the cover, which depicted some sort of elaborate machine that had been invented purely for the purpose of inflicting pain. I began reading and was submerged in a world of glorious suffering when someone stood over me, coughed and spoke.

“Gorra love that Kafka,” she said in a strong Liverpool accent.

I looked up as she took off her rain hat and let her long black hair fall loose.

“A greatly misunderstood humourist,” I said, straining a smile.

She took the book from my hands, frowned and almost threw it across the table.

“When I was a kid I thought a penal colony was a country full of dicks,” she said. Took off her raincoat and hung it over the back of a chair. “Maybe I was right.”

She pulled out another chair and sat next to me. Straightened her short black dress. Picked up my drink and sipped it.

“Gin makes you sin,” she said. She spat an ice cube back into my glass.

“Do I know you?” I said.

“Well, you do now.”

She held out a perfectly manicured hand. I took it. It was ice cold.

“I’m Roma. Shelley’s sister. She’s told me a lot about you. A lot. “

She winked. I flushed and glared at Shelley who was behind the bar cleaning glasses. She looked uncomfortable and averted her gaze.

“The resemblance is … is …”

“Not biological,” said Roma.

“Ha!”

“We’re both adopted.”

Roma clicked a finger and Shelley rushed over from behind the bar.

“What can I get you?” she said with voice like shattered glass.

“Double Glenfiddich for me and another gin for the Elephant Man,” said Roma.

I flushed with embarrassment, rage and… desire. Roma held my gaze and I felt myself becoming aroused. She slipped a hand under the table and patted my hard penis. Dug her nails in.

“Patience… you repulsive troll… patience.”

I was uncharacteristically at a loss for words. Roma fiddled with an unlit Gitanes Brunes and we sat in silence until Shelley brought the drinks over.

Roma put the cigarette back into its blue packet and sipped her drink.

“Shelley tells me you’re a man of very special needs,” she said.

“I am.”

“Well, I’m certain I can help you satisfy those needs, with the right financial motivation.”

“That’s good to know,” I said, burning up. Skin prickly. Throat arid.

“Sure you can afford it, Quasimodo.”

I gulped.

“I can, I can.”

And I could.

My affliction had been due to some dubious pharmaceuticals my mother had taken during her pregnancy. She had subsequently been awarded a massive compensation payment from the manufacturer which she’d kept in a trust fund for me that I couldn’t access until I reached the age of 24. Now, well into my thirties, despite living quite frugally, I used it from time to time for holidays, and yes, occasional trips to see call girls. I had many special needs after all.

“More booze?” said Roma.

“Oh yes.”

She raised her arm like a flamenco dancer and loudly clicked her fingers three times. Shelley brought another round of drinks over, we drank quickly and then the night dissolved into oblivion.

***

A thunderstorm ripped the night open and dragged me from my sleep. My swampy brain slowly focused on the silhouette of Roma’s naked body as she stood in front of my bedroom window, the tip of her cigarette glowing and disappearing as she sucked on it. A neon sign flickered and flashed outside, lightning flashed and then everything turned pitch black.

“Power cut again,’ I said. ‘I’ll find a candle.”

“Don’t bother,” said Roma.

She leaned over and put out her cigarette on my shoulder. The pain was… delicious.

***

The cold morning air tasted like lead as I wandered from my apartment to my office. It was a short walk but I felt exhausted as I sat at my desk. The morning was like wading through treacle, sipping muddy coffee and trying to concentrate on my work. When lunchtime came around, I walked up to Foley’s office. Knocked.

Foley looked up from his lap top. He was bleary eyed and unshaven but he still kept the good looks that had earned him a highly successful modelling career when he was younger.

“Shit, Ed you look worse than I feel. You been burning the candle at both ends again?”

“Something like that,” I said. “Look, I need to go home and catch up on some sleep. I’m no use to anyone today.”

Foley looked as if he was about to say something about me being useless every day at the moment but he bit his tongue. I know I filled the company’s quota of disabled staff and was pretty much unsackable.

“Do what you need to,” he said and went back to Facebook.

I left the office and headed for The Half-Moon Hotel. I was relieved to see that Shelley wasn’t working and walked up to the bar, forgetting about putting on the fake limp.

“G& T, Ed?” said Alec, the barman, a fading playboy with slicked back hair and the smile of a vampiric shark.

“A bit early for the hard stuff. Just a half of Guinness.”

I was tempted to add ‘and that’s Mr Ross to you’. I hated the way people immediately assumed they were on first name terms with the disabled.

As I sat at the bar and sipped my drink, I stumbled through my foggy memory of the previous night. I certainly didn’t remember drinking a great deal but I really couldn’t remember leaving the hotel bar. Apart one moment of wakefulness the night was a blank.

I started to feel a little better and invariably ordered another drink.

“Is Shelley working later?” I said.

“I doubt it,” said Alec. “She was supposed to be working today but she phoned in sick. First time for everything, I suppose.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yes. She’s never sick. You know how bubbly she is. Sweet enough to give you diabetes. Still, since The Vamp appeared on the scene …”

“The Vamp? Oh, Roma, her sister?”

I started to get excited just saying Roma’s name.

Alec laughed. Licked his teeth.

“Sister? Well, they certainly didn’t kiss like sisters when I saw them in Le Madame last week.”

Le Madame was an infamous gay nightclub on the edges of the city. Images and words scattershot the sludge that passed as my thoughts. My throat went very dry. I slugged the Guinness but felt like choking.

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” said Alec.

“I’m the fucking ghost,” I said.

I rushed back to my apartment, sweat oozing through my pores. Ignored the lift and ran upstairs. A click and I opened the door into the darkened room. The heat and the smell of sex smothered me.

I switched on the light. The place had been trashed, of course. My Laptop was gone along with a couple of watches and some other pieces of jewellery that could be described as being valuable. They’d even taken my phones. I knew that my credit cards had been taken before I opened the drawer to my desk but I looked anyway.

I was shaking as I went to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and took a bottle of Finlandia vodka from the freezer. Poured a more liberal amount into a dirty glass, drank it down in one but couldn’t wash away the thought that Roma- and presumably Shelley- had somehow got my bank account’s pin number from me. Wondered how much cash they could withdraw in one day. Could they take it all?

I knew that I should get in touch with the bank and the police and try to sort out the mess but knowing wasn’t the same as doing. As the song said, ‘between thought and expression lies a lifetime’. Or something like that.

I poured myself another drink. Sipped it slowly as I walked out onto the balcony and waited for the storm to break.

The end.

The Weather Prophet is included in The Last Laugh.

News: An Interview and A Few Reviews

MOTW x2

Colman Keane interviewed me over at Col’s Criminal Library.

Did the end result mirror your expectations at the start of the process, or is it a very different book to what you imagined?

Yes, it has the balance of violent, vivid pulp fiction and sixties Britcom that I wanted. I also wanted more gaudy characters and packed in as many as possible. But, as always, I just started writing until it seemed like the right time to stop.

 

He also reviewed Man Of The World.

‘Seatown, London, aging, health issues, family, old friends, old enemies, long memories, gangsters, cops, guns, death, booze, pubs, cafes, kebabs, jukeboxes, ciggies, cocaine, a secret Ministry, Thatcher, Bowie, Ripley and Highsmith, AC/DC, Carol Vorderman, Camden Market, Donna Summer, Elton John, Warsaw, and an intended retirement that just won’t stick. A busy book and one I thoroughly enjoyed.’

SusanHampson reviewed Man Of The World at Books From Dust Till Dawn.

‘The violence is lightened with the dry rugged humour that is embedded on every page along with music classics from yesteryear where it makes for an unforgettable melody of cracking entertainment. I always read these books twice to make sure that I don’t miss any the first time around because Paul Brazil has a subtle sense of humour that I sometimes miss. After all, I am still wrapped up in something that tickled me a couple of sentences back.’

And Bristol-Noir also took a gander at Man Of The World.

There are rich characters, pithy dialogue, giggles, fights and seediness galore throughout…

But, if you want it, there’s more here…a whole lot of layers to be peeled back and devoured.’

Thanks to all!

Last Year’s Man/ Man Of The World NOW 99c!

MOTW x2

Both of my Tommy Bennet books are currently on sale for only 99c – or equivalent- from various platforms. Grab ’em if you fancy!

MAN OF THE WORLD

• Amazon — Trade Paperback | eBook
• Amazon UK — Trade Paperback | eBook
• Barnes & Noble — Trade Paperback | eBook
• IndieBound — Trade Paperback
• iTunes — eBook
• Kobo — eBook
• Play — eBook

LAST YEAR’S MAN

• Amazon — Trade Paperback | eBook
• Amazon UK — Trade Paperback | eBook
• Barnes & Noble — Trade Paperback | eBook
• IndieBound — Trade Paperback
• iTunes — eBook
• Kobo — eBook
• Play — eBook

last years man

Tim O’Mara interviews me at The Big Thrill

‘Paul Brazill’s newest novella, MAN OF THE WORLD, features aging hitman Tommy Bennett, who has left London and returned to his coastal hometown, hoping for a peaceful retirement. It isn’t long before his past catches up with him, sending him running back to London—only to find that mayhem awaits him there as well.

I asked Brazill if it’s really possible for someone who’s made a living as violently as Tommy has, to ever retire.

“Tommy Bennett is an archetype, really,” Brazill said. “He’s like the Western gunslinger trying to hang up his Colt .45: a man who has done bad things and has started to doubt himself.’

READ THE REST HERE.

the big thrill

 

News, reviews, and Small Town Blues

man of the world final

Over at the All Due Respect blog, I talk about small town noir and Man Of The World.

SMALL TOWN BLUES is here.

At Bristol Noir, I have a new short story called IN THE COLD, COLD NIGHT.

Episode 2 of Darren Sant’s Tiny Tales podcast has my yarn THE TUT, and Episode 3 has Peter Ord‘s song GUMSHOE BLUES.

MAN OF THE WORLD is out now and has picked up a couple of very tasty reviews.

K A Laity:

5.0 out of 5 stars From laid-back humour to grievous bodily harm!

Reviewed in the United States on April 18, 2020

Verified Purchase
It’s always good news to hear that Mr B has a new book out. I even got my grubby mitts on an advanced copy so read ’em and weep, folks — I already have! Read it, that is. And ordered the paperback, too.

I missed Seatown! It’s great to be back there. Tommy Bennett is back: he was Last Year’s Man but now he’s even more lethal. He’d really rather retire. He’s almost making peace with the ghosts that haunt him. But the old life pulls him back in every time. And as we all know, the dead don’t always stay dead.

The story turns on a dime from laid-back humour to grievous bodily harm. One minute you’re chuckling as dim-witted low-lifes argue about pop music, then in Chandler-esque fashion a man walks through a door with a gun — and probably dressed as a nun to boot. Brazill makes it all look easy — John Le Mesurier easy. The pace seldom slackens for more than a few pages then we’re off and running again, or rather Tommy is, and he’s left a body or two behind him and a few lively ones chasing him.

True to its title, we start in Seatown but soon we’re off to the Big Smoke and then even further afield. Familiar names pop up: some from his other yarns and beware, crime writing friends of Brazill are likely to wind up dead. All the flourishes you expect from his stories are there: small time crooks improbably questioning the quality of Jane Austen novels, enough song references to fill a day-long radio show, lyrical twists, and you never know what’s lurking behind that closed door though it’s bound to be memorable (I’m still snorting at one of the truly bizarre reveals).

There is more pink than you’d expect in a noir novella.

And I’ll tell you a secret: when he thinks you’re not paying attention Brazill throws in a few lines of absolute poetry. It may seem like finding antique doubloons in busker’s hat full of pennies, but it’s just the thing for those of us lying in the gutter, gazing up at the stars.’

Sonia Kilvington:
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on April 20, 2020

Verified Purchase

E. Hobart:
Reviewed in the United States on April 17, 2020

Verified Purchase

New from All Due Respect: Man of the World by Paul D. Brazill

New from All Due Respect …

 

MAN OF THE WORLD by Paul D. Brazill
Publication Date: April 17, 2020

Buy the trade paperback from the Down & Out Bookstore and receive a FREE digital download of the book!

Also available from the following retailers …
Print: AmazonAmazon UKBarnes & NobleIndieBound
eBook: KindleKindle UKNookiTunesKoboPlay

Synopsis … Ageing hit-man Tommy Bennett left London and returned to his hometown of Seatown, hoping for respite from the ghosts of the violent past that haunted him. However, things don’t go to plan and trouble and violence soon follow Tommy to Seatown. Tommy is soon embroiled in Seatown’s underworld and his hopes of a peaceful retirement are dashed. Tommy deliberates whether or not to leave Seatown and return to London. Or even leave Great Britain altogether. So, he heads back to London where violence and mayhem await him.

Man of the World is a violent and darkly comic slice of Brit Grit noir.

Praise for the Books by Paul D. Brazill:

“If you took Ken Bruen’s candor, the best of Elmore Leonard’s dialogues, sprinkled in some Irvine Welsh, and dragged it all through the dirtiest ditch in South London, the result will be something akin to Brazill’s writing.” —Gabino Iglesias, author of Zero Saints and Gutmouth, for The Last Laugh

“A broad range of cultural strands come together in the melting pot and form a delicious stew of criminal adventure… The observations are sharp and the characters create small nuclear explosions as they collide with each other.” —Nigel Bird, author of Southsiders, for The Last Laugh

“Brazill offers a series of amusing episodes filled with breezy banter in this offbeat slice of British noir.” —Publishers Weekly, for Last Year’s Man

“It’s all here, everything you’ve come to expect from a Paul D. Brazill caper—the fast pace, the witty banter, the grim humour and the classic tunes—except this time he’s REALLY outdone himself. Unlike the lament in the song the title takes its name from, Paul’s best years are surely still ahead of him.” —Paul Heatley, author of Fatboy, for Last Year’s Man

“Paul D. Brazill is the Crown Prince of Noir. That’s my opinion, granted, but I stand by it. For those who require proof, just pick up his latest novel, Last Year’s Man, and it will be clear why I make that statement. All hail the crown prince!” —Les Edgerton, author of The Genuine, Imitation, Plastic Kidnapping, Just Like That and others

“Brazill is brilliant, a unique voice which stands out from the crowd.” —Keith Nixon, author of the Solomon Gray books, for Last Year’s Man

man of the world final

Pre- order Man Of The World NOW!

man of the world final

Grab the eBook of Man Of The World for a special pre-order discount price HERE.

Ageing hit-man Tommy Bennett left London and returned to his hometown of Seatown, hoping for respite from the ghosts of the violent past that haunted him. However, things don’t go to plan and trouble and violence soon follow Tommy to Seatown. Tommy is soon embroiled in Seatown’s underworld and his hopes of a peaceful retirement are dashed. Tommy deliberates whether or not to leave Seatown and return to London. Or even leave Great Britain altogether. So, he heads back to London where violence and mayhem await him.

Man of the World is a violent and darkly comic slice of Brit Grit noir.

Out 17 April 2020: Man of the World by Paul D. Brazill

I’m very pleased to say that All Due Respect/ Down & Out Books will be publishing Man Of The World, the follow up to my novella Last Year’s Man, in April 2020.

I’ll give you a bit more info about Man Of The World at a later date. In the meantime, here’s the SP on Last Year’s Man:

A troubled, ageing hit man leaves London and returns to his hometown in the north east of England hoping for peace. But the ghosts of his past return to haunt him.

Last Year’s Man is a violent and blackly comic slice of Brit Grit noir.

Praise for LAST YEAR’S MAN:

“Brazill offers a series of amusing episodes filled with breezy banter in this offbeat slice of British noir.” – Publishers Weekly

“It’s all here, everything you’ve come to expect from a Paul D. Brazill caper – the fast pace, the witty banter, the grim humour and the classic tunes – except this time he’s REALLY outdone himself. Unlike the lament in the song the title takes its name from, Paul’s best years are surely still ahead of him.” – Paul Heatley, author of Fatboy

“Paul D. Brazill is the Crown Prince of Noir. That’s my opinion, granted, but I stand by it. For those who require proof, just pick up his latest novel, Last Year’s Man, and it will be clear why I make that statement. All hail the crown prince!” – Les Edgerton, author of The Rapist, The Bitch, Just Like That and others

“Brazill is brilliant, a unique voice which stands out from the crowd.” – Keith Nixon, author of the Solomon Gray books.

cover-brazill-last-years-man-5

Recommended Read:Welcome To HolyHell by Math Bird

welcome-to-holy-hell

It’s 1976, and Britain is in the grip of an unbearable heatwave when Bowen leaves London to return to his home town in northeast Wales. As events spiral out of Bowen’s control, his old partner Nash follows his trail. Meanwhile, young Jay finds a briefcase stuffed with cash.

Math Bird’s Welcome To HolyHell is just fantastic. It has the sharp plotting of peak Elmore Leonard combined with the brooding lyrical atmosphere of James Lee Burke. The characters are all marvelously well-drawn and the sense of time and place is spot on. Welcome To HolyHell is a great slice of hardboiled crime fiction that is also moving and funny.

The Welcome To HolyHell eBook is currently available for 99c/99p so get stuck in there!

Last Year’s Man Rides Again!

 

a time for violence

For those of you that enjoyed my book LAST YEAR’S MAN, the protagonist Tommy Bennett is back. The Tommy Bennett yarn ‘Baby’s Got A Gun‘ – title filched from The Only Ones – is included in the anthology A TIME FOR VIOLENCE: STORIES WITH AN EDGE.

The anthology is published by CLOSE TO THE BONE and is edited by Andy Rausch and Chris Roy.

It includes stories from Richard Chizmar, Joe R. Lansdale, Max Allen Collins, John A Russo and many more!

You can grab A TIME FOR VIOLENCE from Amazon.com and loads of other joints, in paperback and as an eBook.

 

 

DEADLINES: A TRIBUTE TO WILLIAM E. WALLACE edited by Chris Rhatigan and Ron Earl Phillips

deadlinesPRE-ORDER NOW! Available 09/28/2018.

DEADLINES: A TRIBUTE TO WILLIAM E. WALLACE edited by Chris Rhatigan and Ron Earl Phillips — Published by Shotgun Honey, an imprint of Down & Out Books (September 2018)

• Trade Paperback — $16.95 (includes FREE digital formats!)
• eBook Formats — $6.99

The download link for the ebook (as a .zip file; use WinZip or iZip to open) will be included in the customer receipt when the order is completed on or just prior to the publication date.

 

 

Also available from the following retailers …

• Amazon — Trade Paperback | eBook
• Amazon UK — Trade Paperback | eBook
• Barnes & Noble — Trade Paperback | eBook
• iTunes — eBook
• Kobo — eBook
• Play — eBook

Deadlines is a tribute anthology dedicated to the memory of writer and crime fiction enthusiast, William E. Wallace. A career journalist, Wallace got a first-hand look at the darker side of humanity working at various papers in California before settling at the San Francisco Chronicle. Upon retiring, Wallace engaged fully into the crime fiction community connecting with writers and readers not only to promote his own writing, but to promote other writers he enjoyed.

It is through William E. Wallace’s career and his stories that the contributors to this anthology take inspiration. These stories are presented with appreciation to his unselfish contribution to our community and our publications.

All proceeds of this publication will be donated to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund in the name of William E. Wallace.

Learn more about the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund at cbldf.org.

And read William E. Wallace’s blog at PulpHackConfessions.com.

Thank you to those who contributed their time and stories: Preston Lang, Jen Conley, Joe Clifford, Will Viharo, Paul D. Brazill, Patricia Abbott, Rob Pierce, Sean Craven, Eric Beetner, Sarah M. Chen, Nick Kolakowski, S.W. Lauden, Scott Adlerberg, Gary Phillips, Renee Asher Pickup, Eryk Pruitt, Todd Morr, Travis Richardson, Anonymous-9, Sean Lynch, Alec Cizak, Greg Barth, C. Mack Lewis.

A joint publication of Shotgun Honey and All Due Respect.