C.A. Larmer's Blog, page 7
October 21, 2012
Finis!
Hello fellow Roxy Parker fans,
You'll be glad to hear I have now finished book number three in the Ghostwriter Mystery series and it will soon be with my US editor, who does the fairy dusting. My talented designer, Stu, is also hard at work on the cover, so stay tuned for a sneak peek.
Called Last Writes, this story features all your favourite characters, including Roxy's slothful agent Oliver, her chirpy police friend Gilda, and the handsome Mr Farrell, who, you will be pleased to hear, has not quite given up on commitment-phobe Roxy. In this story, set about six months after book number two, Roxy finds herself in the middle of a series of baffling murders. Someone is targeting writers this time, and with three successful authors dead, panic begins to set in. Roxy's not so worried about herself as Oliver. He's just become Suspect Number 1, and he hasn't got an alibi to stand on.
As Roxy attempts to clear Oliver's name, she also finds herself embroiled in a love triangle with newcomer, David Lone, a handsome and successful author whose life may also be in danger. Lone has asked Roxy to write his life story and is proving surprisingly attractive. Will Roxy finally open her heart to a man? And how will Max react?
In this book we also meet Max's sassy sister, Caroline, are reunited with Roxy's nagging mother, Lorraine, and take a terrifying road trip up the north coast of Australia, where a ruthless killer is plotting Roxy's last rites...
Last Writes will be available as an ebook in December.
Happy reading.
xo Christina
You'll be glad to hear I have now finished book number three in the Ghostwriter Mystery series and it will soon be with my US editor, who does the fairy dusting. My talented designer, Stu, is also hard at work on the cover, so stay tuned for a sneak peek.
Called Last Writes, this story features all your favourite characters, including Roxy's slothful agent Oliver, her chirpy police friend Gilda, and the handsome Mr Farrell, who, you will be pleased to hear, has not quite given up on commitment-phobe Roxy. In this story, set about six months after book number two, Roxy finds herself in the middle of a series of baffling murders. Someone is targeting writers this time, and with three successful authors dead, panic begins to set in. Roxy's not so worried about herself as Oliver. He's just become Suspect Number 1, and he hasn't got an alibi to stand on.
As Roxy attempts to clear Oliver's name, she also finds herself embroiled in a love triangle with newcomer, David Lone, a handsome and successful author whose life may also be in danger. Lone has asked Roxy to write his life story and is proving surprisingly attractive. Will Roxy finally open her heart to a man? And how will Max react?
In this book we also meet Max's sassy sister, Caroline, are reunited with Roxy's nagging mother, Lorraine, and take a terrifying road trip up the north coast of Australia, where a ruthless killer is plotting Roxy's last rites...
Last Writes will be available as an ebook in December.
Happy reading.
xo Christina
June 15, 2012
SNEAK PEEK: Last Writes (a Ghostwriter Mystery)
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:Dear readers,I am currently half-way through writing the third in the Ghostwriter Mystery series. This one is called Last Writes and features a madman who is killing off some of Australia's popular niche writers, from a sci-fi writer to an erotic novelist. Roxy must hunt him down before he turns to his next target, a ghostwriter (gulp!) ...I'd like to share the start of this book with you (see below) and thank all those who have been in touch via email (or commenting below) to tell me what they love most about Roxy Parker. It's always great to hear from readers, and to know I've struck a chord. Keep the comments coming, guys, and happy reading!xo Christina
By C.A. LarmerPrologueThe drugging had been relatively easy but it wasn’t over yet. He needed to leave a message, to make him pay. He searched around the room until his eyes settled on a butcher knife in the kitchen. Yes, that would do nicely. Slowly, methodically, he made his way over to it, picked it up with both hands and returned to the bed. His hands shaking, he picked up one thin, white wrist and began to slash at it, first this way, then that.“This will teach you to mess with me,” he said. “Now you’ll be sorry.” Then he let the blood-splattered knife drop to the floor.
Chapter 1 A shrill sound blasted through a thirsty sleep and Roxy sat up with a start, glancing, bleary-eyed towards her clock radio. It was just after 8:00 a.m. and the phone was screaming like a demented catbird. She groaned and, feeling the full force of one-too-many champagnes, grappled for the hands-free receiver.“Hmmm?”“Roxy?”“Hmmm.”“Don’t tell me you were still asleep?” Roxy located her black Rayban glasses on the bedside table, wedged them into place and rechecked the clock. “Oliver, it’s 8:04 on Saturday morning, you’re supposed to still be asleep.” She sat up, a little more alert now. “What the hell are you doing up at this hour?” Roxy’s agent, Oliver Horowitz was a classic insomniac. That meant late nights pacing his Kings Cross apartment and late mornings catching up on Zzzs. He rarely got to work before 10:00 a.m. and, it being Saturday, should not even be vertical for at least another three hours. “What’s going on?”“Just had some bad news. Tragic, actually.”“Oh?”“One of my writers is dead.”“Oh.” She digested this for a second. “Shit. Who? What happened?”A deep groan. “Don’t really wanna go over it on the phone. Can you come meet me? For a coffee. I need to unload.”Now it was her turn to groan. She liked death stories as much as the next person. Hell, a lot more if truth be told. It was her one true indulgence, her sick little fetish, as her friend Max would say. But it was 8:04 a.m. for God’s sake. She glanced again at the clock. Make that 8:06.“Come on, Roxy, I’m down at Peepers, five seconds from your place.” A pause. “The death could be suspicious. Maybe even murder. Coppers have already grilled me.”Now he had her hooked. Roxy rubbed the sleep from her eyes and said, “I’ll be there in ten.”
As she wrestled her way out of the sheets and into the bathroom, Roxy wondered which of Oliver’s clients had kicked the bucket. She hoped it wasn’t investigative reporter David Lone, she’d only just met the guy. She scowled at herself in the mirror.I bet it bloody is, she thought. It would be just her luck.Roxy had ben introduced to the luscious Mr Lone the night before, at his film premiere, and there had been an instant spark, or at least she had felt one. Of course it could have had something to do with the six champagnes she’d knocked back before he’d even caught her eye. Roxy didn’t normally drink a lot but last night she couldn’t help herself. Not only was the grog free, and who can resist free grog? But it had been weeks since she’d gone out and she was determined to have a good time, even if it killed her. And it had been a good time, Roxy thought, as she surveyed the damage in the mirror in front of her: smudged mascara, a pillow crease across one cheek, blood-shot eyes.Bloody hell, she was going to need more than 10 minutes to smooth this mess out. She turned the tap on, squirted some cleanser onto her face and got scrubbing, erasing the remnants of the night while the memories flooded back...
A (2ND) NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:Dear readers: If you enjoyed that excerpt and haven't read any of my Ghostwriter mysteries, please head straight to Amazon where you'll find the first two books in the series:Killer Twist - a free ebook Plot to Die For - available for just 99cYou can also download my other crime series: The Agatha Christie Book Club
Thanks for all your support
xo Christina
May 24, 2012
To push or not to push
He'd spent weeks psyching himself up for the 2 km cross country race. Was determined he'd run well, hell he might even qualify for Regionals if he gave it his best shot. So when my eight-year-old suddenly choked a minute before the race was due to start, refusing to go in, refusing to run the race, I was surprised and disappointed. But mostly, I was disappointed for him.
Suddenly the proud little boy who'd won the Small Schools Championship, entered District and qualified for Zone, and who had his shoes on and legs limbering up, had a minor meltdown. He looked terrified, wounded, unable to cope.
"I don't want to run Mum. You can't make me. I won't!"
He was right, I couldn't make him. I also didn't know whether I should even try. What was the right reaction here? What was the reaction that was not going to turn my boy into a reluctant sportsman or a quitter for life?
Should I have insisted he step up and run the bloody race? Was that too harsh? Too 1955? Would he come away with a fierce hatred for competition after that?
Should I have given him a cuddle and told him it was all okay, it didn't really matter in the great scheme of life? Was that too soft and flippant, and so typical today? We're so keen to bubble-wrap our kids now, we often don't push them into taking risks that help them grow into bold and confident adults. Would this one day lead to him walking out before the HSC, quipping, "It's too hard, I don't want to do it, you can't make me!"
Or should I have made light of the whole thing and left it at that?
It's hard to know how to react to our children's little meltdowns and it's hard to react naturally when there are scores of other parents and children watching, intrigued and judgmental from the sidelines. But I tried to cajole him into running, I tried to walk him to the start, and when that failed, I bent down and told him he would regret this decision, that he was letting his team and, more importantly, himself down. "It doesn't matter if you come first or last, you're a winner just for entering the race," I spurted. The usual cliches.
It didn't make a jot of difference. He wouldn't budge. And so we left with our tails between our legs and felt flat for the rest of the day.
Suddenly the proud little boy who'd won the Small Schools Championship, entered District and qualified for Zone, and who had his shoes on and legs limbering up, had a minor meltdown. He looked terrified, wounded, unable to cope.
"I don't want to run Mum. You can't make me. I won't!"
He was right, I couldn't make him. I also didn't know whether I should even try. What was the right reaction here? What was the reaction that was not going to turn my boy into a reluctant sportsman or a quitter for life?
Should I have insisted he step up and run the bloody race? Was that too harsh? Too 1955? Would he come away with a fierce hatred for competition after that?
Should I have given him a cuddle and told him it was all okay, it didn't really matter in the great scheme of life? Was that too soft and flippant, and so typical today? We're so keen to bubble-wrap our kids now, we often don't push them into taking risks that help them grow into bold and confident adults. Would this one day lead to him walking out before the HSC, quipping, "It's too hard, I don't want to do it, you can't make me!"
Or should I have made light of the whole thing and left it at that?
It's hard to know how to react to our children's little meltdowns and it's hard to react naturally when there are scores of other parents and children watching, intrigued and judgmental from the sidelines. But I tried to cajole him into running, I tried to walk him to the start, and when that failed, I bent down and told him he would regret this decision, that he was letting his team and, more importantly, himself down. "It doesn't matter if you come first or last, you're a winner just for entering the race," I spurted. The usual cliches.
It didn't make a jot of difference. He wouldn't budge. And so we left with our tails between our legs and felt flat for the rest of the day.
