The throbbing, pulsating beats of the dance music are really not your thing at all. They reverberate throughout your entire body, the bass making it almost hard to breathe at times, but despite yourself you are having a good time. The club is bustling with men, women, and all those in between, gyrating and throwing shapes upon the sticky, sweaty dance floor. Maybe it’s the drink taking effect, but you are actually having a fun time. You’ve already caught the eyes of several potential admirers, not that you’d have the energy, or inclination, to do anything about it. Still, this is a new feeling and it’s a good one. Above the floor a huge glitterball slowly rotates throwing shards of sparkling incandescence across the walls and the ceiling and onto the hot sweating bodies lost in the music all around you.
As the night draws to a close the club is looking very empty now. Unfortunately you’re stuck here until the end as your friend is the night’s DJ and you promised to help them pack up their gear.
As you recline against the wall you stand transfixed as the glitterball continues to reflect the light in tiny iridescent tesserae all around you. As you continue to stare at it, mesmerised by the many rainbow colours, you start to notice something odd. You look around to see if anyone else has noticed this strange effect, but the few remaining clubbers are off their tits too much to notice anything anymore. You crane your neck back up and stare at the light dancing across the ceiling. Yes, your eyes do not deceive you, those really are words dancing above you, revealing a blurb sparkling above your head:
SOME RELATIONSHIPS ARE JUST MURDER
It’s 1985, and Joe Stone is excited to be joining his old school friend, and lifelong crush, Chris, for a long weekend in London’s Soho—home to a vibrant, developing gay scene, and a million miles from the small town where Joe and Chris grew up.
When Chris is found brutally murdered, the police write his death off as just another rent boy fallen foul of a bad hook up. But Joe knows his friend was killed deliberately, and joins forces with former police detective, Russell Dixon—Chris’s flatmate—to find out why.
Spiralling debt, illicit sex, blackmail, spurned lovers and hard-nosed gangsters all play their part, but who among the celebrities, fashionistas, drag queens, ex-lovers and so-called friends is Chris’s killer?
A noirish whodunnit set in 1980s London, with all the big hair, electro-pop, shoulder pads, police discrimination and lethal killers that the era had to offer.
So #Fahrenbruary is over. The month long Fahrenheit celebration comes to a shuddering halt, for this year at least. How was it for you? Personally, I am pooped. Seriously, my brain is going into a kind of hibernation right now – like a tortoise after a particularly busy summer spent eating cabbage and an especially tough bit of carrot. But would I change it in any way?
It’s been a terrific month in every way. Yes it’s been hard work, bloody hard work, but it has also been very, very rewarding and huge fun.
Welcome to the Penultimate day of this years #Fahrenbruary. Yes, can you Adam and believe it… we are at Day 27. Where the heck did it all go eh?
What do I have for you lucky people today then? Well, today I present to you a very special Q&A. Why is it special? Well I’ll tell you why, because today I bring you a Q&A with non other than the man who has brought us some of the darkest, most disturbing and experimental noir this side of… er… this side of the… um… other side of something else that brought us some pretty dark noir, I can tell you. Yes, you should see that side now… all hanging its head in shame and feeling pretty silly with itself that someone else has come along and trumped them in the dark noir stakes.
Ha! Take that other side of… thingy.
But I fear that I am digressing a tad.
Who is this man with what of whom I speak?
Who is this dark genius with an eye for that which others fear to publish?
Who is it who dares to laugh in the face of traditional publishing and chuckle at the cheeks of conventionality?
How long does he dare to leave his biscuit in his hot drink before taking it out?
Where does he keep his soul?
And how on earth does he pronounce ‘scone’?
The man holding all of the answers to the above is… Chris Black.
Quite possibly you will never have heard of him. Maybe you are about to hit the back button on your browser thinking, “meh, I care not for this Chris Black person. I’m going to go back to reading my [insert title here] published by the excellent Fahrenheit 13!”
Well, STOP RIGHT THERE, STRANGER!
For you see, Chris Black is the very man responsible for bringing you that book and author of which you are so desperate to return to.
For Chris Black IS Mr. Fahrenheit 13.
Totes way. Now I have your interest, huh? Not so eager to run away now then, are we? So, dear reader, cast you eyes down below (no, not that down below, seriously, filth!) and find out more about who Chris really is.
Enjoy. TBBB X
Hello you lovely people and a very warm and squidgy welcome to the Beardy Book Blog for what is Day 26 of #Fahrenbruary.
You may be wondering what delights I have in store for you today, well, you can wonder no more for today I bring to you a Q&A from the king of transgressive noir himself, Mark Ramsden.
Mark is the author of the sexily naughty and spanktastic noir novel ‘Mistress Murder‘. I reviewed this book on Day 25, which, rather conveniently, was also yesterday. You can check out that very review riiiiiiiiiiiiight…….. here!
Well, I bet that got your blood a-pumpin’, eh? I wager that that has got you wondering what kind of person possesses the sort of mind to come up with such a saucy story and wantonly flings words such as ‘rootle’ and ‘bottom’ about in the same sentence, huh?
Well today I hope we can clear up some of the questions you may have as we plunge into the mind of Mark.
Don’t be scared! Join us….
Despite paying good money for it, you’re really not sure that the leather clad dominatrix striking you across your bottom with the thin cane really has their heart in it. They keep sighing and huffing and puffing as they strike you, stepping back, pausing then coming back to do a bit more. Eventually your hour is up and they pack away their things and leave, without even as much as a goodbye. You’re left in the small dark dungeon wondering what the hell that was all about. You’re left distinctly unsatisfied by the whole affair. You wanted a damn good thrashing, not a gentle caressing. You’ll be having words with the Madame that’s for sure!
You turn around and take a look at your rosy red buttocks in the full length mirror behind you. In the low light you notice something odd about the marks. Instead of being all straight and parallel as usual, they appear to be random and criss-crossing each other. Some are long and straight whilst others are short and at angles to each other. What the…?
Angling your head slightly and turning more towards the light you swear that the marks across your bottom begin to look familiar. Could they be…? Surely they can’t be…?
But there, as plain as day now you have got your eye in, across both of your buttocks and perfectly reflected in the mirror, there is a… blurb!
“Susie Godly is many things to many people. Lover, daughter, mother, ex-wife, entrepreneur and – in her guise as Mistress Murder – one of the most in-demand dominatrixes in London.
Susie has bought herself a first-class ticket on the hedonism express and shows no sign of slowing down for anyone or anything. Yes, her marriage ended badly – sure, it’s fair to say she’s probably doing a few too many drugs – and yeah, most people would agree her love-life sits at the more ‘complicated’ end of the spectrum – but it’s nothing Susie can’t handle, right?
As she does her best to ride the wave of joyous mayhem she’s created, Susie’s attempts to live her best life are thwarted by the appearance of a mysterious stalker who seems infuriated by both her and her lifestyle. Susie’s dealt with stalkers before of course – they’re par for the course in her business – but this one operates on a different level of malevolence, and she is forced to take desperate steps to ensure her safety and the safety of the people she loves.
Mistress Murder provides a hilarious, beautifully frank, and entirely unselfconscious window into a hedonistic subculture where few have dared to tread.”
Today is the 22nd Day of #Fahrenbruary and today I bring you a brilliant guest post from none other than Duncan MacMaster. Duncan is the author of the most splendid ‘A Mint Condition Corpse‘, its sequel ‘Video Killed The Radio Star‘ (both featuring his ace nerdy crimefighter Kirby Baxter), and ‘Hack‘, all published by Fahrenheit Press.
When I asked Duncan to write me a guest post for Fahrenbruary he very kindly agreed and boy has he delivered.
Have you ever had the burning desire to write a Whodunnit? Have you ever thought to yourself, “argh, I really want to write a whodunnit, but I really don’t know where to even start”?
Well, beardy blog fans, wonder no more for Duncan will set you straight and guide you through the murky waters of crafting such a tale.
So, without further ado, sit back and discover how it’s done (well, by Duncan at any rate… other methods may be available 😉).
Enjoy. TBBB X
You hold the Desire Card in your hand. Can it really deliver the one thing that you desperately desire? The one thing that has eluded you for so long?
You have the money, but do you have the courage to go through with it?
There is only one way to find out. Taking a deep breath you press the button on the card.
“What is your desire?”
The voice on the end of the line is distorted and crackles with static.
“What is your desire?” it repeats in the same monotone drone.
You hesitate, not sure anymore that you want the one thing that you truly desire.
“What is you desire?”
Your mouth goes dry as you try to form the words, “I…. I desire… “
The person on the other end sighs, the sound coming out as a static hiss.
“What do you desire?”
You close you eyes and summon the courage to speak: “I… I desire… a blurb!”
‘Any wish fulfilled for the right price. That’s the promise the organization behind The Desire Card gives to its elite clients – but sometimes the price may be more menacing than anyone could ever imagine.
Harrison Stockton has lived an adult life of privilege and excess: a high-powered job on Wall Street fuels his fondness for alcohol and pills at the expense of a family he has no time for. Quite suddenly all of this comes crashing to a halt when he loses his job and at the same time discovers he almost certainly has only months left to live.
Desperate, and with seemingly nowhere else left to turn, Harrison activates his Desire Card. What follows is a gritty and gripping quest that takes him from New York City to the slums of Mumbai and forces him to take chances, and make decisions, he never thought he’d ever have to face. When his moral descent threatens his wife and children, Harrison must decide whether to save himself at any cost, or do what’s right and break his bargain with the mysterious group behind The Desire Card.‘