If you’ve  read my Edmonton Police Station Thriller series, then you would have heard of Detective Inspector Peter Moone, who had his first appearance in THE AMOUNT OF EVIL, alongside the infamous DCI JAIRUS. He carried on his career through the rest of the Edmonton books, narrowly avoiding death and destruction along the way. Soon, the lithe, tired, and sometimes self loathing detective will be appearing in his own series. The first book that will come out, probably in the autumn, will be titled BAD TIMES. The book is set in Plymouth, where Moone settles down for a quieter life after following his estranged family into the South West. Of course, he doesn’t get that quiet life. What he does get is more mayhem, destruction and plenty of murders to investigate. If you like twisted, dark and gripping thrillers, get ready for BAD TIMES… Oh and there’s an element to the series of books, a kind of theme running through that I’m hoping one of my readers will pick up on. 

Here’s a sneaky look at the prologue:


The night rain made everything glisten, caught by the streetlamps dotted along the path that snaked from Argyle’s football ground down to Central Park Avenue.

He waited, sat in the shadows of the graffiti daubed shelter halfway along the path, watching the raindrops fall in front of him, checking his phone every now and again.

He pulled his raincoat around him, checked his gloves were on snug enough, and pulled his baseball cap down further. There were no cameras here, not even with the building work going on a few yards away.

He stood up, braving the rain that blew in, came at him almost horizontally like people had warned him of when he first moved down.

He checked his phone again, feeling the nervous buzz he always got that travelled to every part of him like a horde of fire ants. He was shaking, trembling all over as he lifted his phone and saw he’d had a message. They were on their way.

He took out the small bottle of whiskey he had brought with him, a sip of Dutch courage before the big date.

He laughed to himself, at his own little joke as he took a few gulps as he walked through the darkness.

Even through the rain the sound came to him like a familiar melody, that old click clacking of heels on hard ground. The feminine shape, the shapely silhouette came towards him, growing all the time. The wind carried the perfume to him, wrapped around his head and made his chest thump madly. His clenched his fists tighter as the thing, the creature, stepped into the amber light and smiled nervously.

‘Hi,’ the creature said, their smile spread wide on their red lipstick lips.

He trembled so much then that he thought he might fall over, his heart pumping the blood around him so fast. Then the thing was closer, the heels tip tapping to him, but he was frozen, fear having stuck him to the ground, unable to even lift his fists.

The kiss landed on his cheek, snapping him out of his dream, sending him backwards, his gloved hand touching his face. He looked at his gloved fingers as if he expected his skin to have come away.  

He looked up and the lamplight shone down on him, illuminating his face for all to see, for the creature to see.

When his face changed, its face changed, and all the colour poured out as it turned to go, to run. But he was faster, hurling himself on top of it, raising his fists and pounding down until the thing didn’t move under him.

His face had been seen, he thought, burning all over, the puke rising in him as his trembling hands gripped the creature’s throat and he began to squeeze.

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