Anne Bonny #BookReview The Angry Sea by @jamesdeeganMC 5* #SAS #Action #Thriller #JohnCarr #Series @HQstories

The Angry Sea by James Deegan ~ John Carr Series #2
Review Copy

Synopsis ~

Former SAS Sergeant Major John Carr is relaxing on a Spanish beach, when a man with dark eyes attracts his attention. Fixated on a group of young Britons, the man doesn’t notice Carr and soon moves on.

Within the hour, the Costa del Sol will be plunged into one of the most audacious and horrifying terrorist attacks Europe has ever seen.

In a co-ordinated strike, armed men storm both the beach and a cruise ship anchored further up the coast. But the terrorists – hiding personal greed under the veil of religious extremism – have an even bolder plan.

Constrained by the sensitive political situation, MI6 and the Prime Minister must confront the possibility of leading a secret operation against a brutal enemy. And then find the right man to head it . . .

Enter John Carr.

My Review ~

John Carr is back with another action packed read!
The novel opens in open court at the trial of Zeff Mahsoud, whom upon appeal is freed from HMP Belmarsh. The story surrounding Zeff is quite vague initially but then the title jumps ahead three months and we begin to fathom a connection to John Carr.

John Carr is retired from 22 SAS Sqn, leaving at the rank of Sgt Maj. Currently enjoying a holiday with his kids, Alice 17yrs and George 24yrs (currently awaiting selection) at Puerto Banus Beach.
In the distance is a cruise ship and we become acquainted with the ships crew onboard via their narrative. Then a suicide vest explodes, there is an armed man on board; murder and mayhem surely follows…

‘Cruise liners and tourists were just too big and soft and tempting a target’

When a terrorist on the beach opens fire. John and his son George jump into action. As the carnage of hate spills onto the beach, the terrorists locate their target. Under the hail of fire, John and George’s plan is to cease the bullets raining down.

‘Panicking got you killed’

After the attack, it is discovered 50 dead on the ship and approximately 30 dead on the beach. But what was the reasoning? Or was this just a senseless act of violence?
It is then discovered that three female hostages have been taken from the beach. And not just any hostages, one of them is the daughter of the Prime Minister Penelope Morgan.

‘There’s no point in kidnapping the daughter of the British Prime Minister just to kill her’

What is their motive in taking the PM’s daughter? What if you are the most powerful person in the country, but it is your position that may cost your child their life?
The UK government is in a tricky situation, as they can’t be seen to be negotiating with terrorist groups. They also have to plan deniable ops due to international law. John Carr is asked to establish and lead a team of men!

‘Combat was a drug, and he was a recovering addict’

Action-packed, with a cracking protagonist in SAS man John Carr 5*

James Deegan
My Review of Once A Pilgrim

#BlogTour #GuestPost #FoxHunter by @authorzoesharp #NewRelease #CrimeFiction #Action

*I have swapped #BlogTour dates with the lovely Ayo from Shotsmag Confidential, due to being in hospital, apologises to the author & publisher*

Fox Hunter by Zoe Sharp
The dead man had not gone quietly … There was a time when I would have given everything I owned to be the one responsible for that.’

Charlie Fox will never forget the men who put a brutal end to her military career, but she vowed a long time ago she would not go looking for them.

Now she doesn’t have a choice.

Her boss and former lover, Sean Meyer, is missing in Iraq where one of those men was working as a private security contractor. When the man’s butchered body is discovered, Charlie fears that Sean may be pursuing a twisted vendetta on her behalf.

Sean’s partner in their exclusive New York close-protection agency needs this dealt with—fast and quiet—before everything they’ve worked for is in ruins. He sends Charlie to the Middle East with very specific instructions:

Find Sean Meyer and stop him. By whatever means necessary.

At one time Charlie thought she knew Sean better than she knew herself, but it seems he’s turned into a violent stranger. As the trail grows more bloody, Charlie realises that unless she can get to Sean first, the hunter may soon become the hunted.



Zoë Sharp

I deliberately did not set out to put Charlie Fox down into the middle of the Iraq wars. For a start, the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait that led to the Gulf War took place in 1990-1991, which is rather early for Charlie to be involved unless she enlisted in the army as a very young girl soldier. The second major Iraq War with Western allies, which ended in the fall of Saddam Hussein, finished in 2011, by which time Charlie had been back in civvy street for some time.


Considering the way time can be stretched and compressed in the world of a book, though, there’s no reason she couldn’t have played an active military role in any of the conflicts of the late 1990s or early 2000s. After all, when Robert B Parker wrote the first of the books to feature his classic private detective, Spenser, (THE GODWULF MANUSCRIPT, published in 1973) the character was described as a veteran of the Korean War of 1950-1953. This would have made Spenser a somewhat elderly (but still remarkably agile) man by the time the fortieth novel in the series, SIXKILL, came out in 2011, a year after Parker himself died at his desk. However, because book-time was in play Spenser was able to remain ageless to the last, existing in a kind of floating ever-present.


I deliberately did not want to place Charlie into a full-blown military situation in my latest book, FOX HUNTER, as that period of her life belongs in the past. I know Lee Child has returned several times to Jack Reacher’s service as a military cop, but I have already made it clear that Charlie’s time in uniform did not end well, and I didn’t want to take her back there.


Not yet, anyway.


I do intend to return to Charlie’s army past in the project I’m currently working on, which will be a prequel to the series. It will detail not how she came to be thrown out of Special Forces training, but what she had to do in order to be chosen for it in the first place.

But that, as they say, is another story.

For FOX HUNTER, I wanted to take Charlie to the Middle East in general—and Iraq in particular—but in more contemporary, post-war times. I wanted to explore the roles of women in this uncertain and shifting landscape, both those working in the male-dominated profession of the private military contractor, and those living day-to-day amid the threat of violence and retribution. In this situation, Charlie is both an outside observer, able to empathise only too well with victims, and very much an active participant.


By focusing down onto individual stories rather than global themes, I hoped to portray a broader picture of this troubled area, where good and evil are rarely clear cut, and everyone has their own idea of what it means to behave with honour. Somehow, that felt easier to write in such an unsettled location. Having said that, as I read the news reports at home every day I think this story could have been transported back here just as easily.

We live, as the Arab curse has it, in interesting times …

Zoë Sharp was a photojournalist for almost twenty-five years before she quit to write fiction full time. She loves to travel—and has done so by all means including horseback, camel train, motorcycle, yacht, skidoo, and steam locomotive, as well as by more conventional forms of transport. She has so far achieved well over a million words in print, and there’s no sign of her stopping any time soon.

Zoe Sharp








#BlogTour #GuestPost #DebtToPayBook by @ReedFColeman @noexitpress

Debt To Pay by Reed Farrel Coleman

All is quiet in Paradise, except for a spate of innocuous vandalism. Good thing, too, because Jesse Stone is preoccupied with the women in his life, both past and present. As his ex-wife, Jenn, is about to marry a Dallas real-estate tycoon, Jesse isn’t too sure his relationship with former FBI agent Diana Evans is built to last. But those concerns get put on the back burner when a major Boston crime boss is brutally murdered. Despite all evidence to the contrary, Jesse suspects it’s the work of Mr. Peepers, a psychotic assassin who has caused trouble for Jesse in the past.

Peepers has long promised revenge against the Mob, Jesse, and Suit for their roles in foiling one of his hits – and against Jenn as well. And though Jesse and Jenn have long parted ways, Jesse still feels responsible for her safety. Jesse and Diana head to Dallas for the wedding and, along with the tycoon’s security team, try to stop Peepers before the bill comes due. With Peepers toying with the authorities as to when and where he’ll strike, Jesse is up against the wall. Still, there’s a debt to pay and blood to be spilled to satisfy it. But whose blood, and just how much?


Jesse Stone and Elvis

It is one thing to write my own series. I’ve written five series characters of my own creation. It was quite something else to receive a call from my then agent and having him tell me I had been selected to take over a bestselling series written by one of America’s most beloved authors. Strange, exhilarating, and frightening don’t begin to describe it. But in taking over the Jesse Stone series from Michael Brandman who had taken the series over shortly after Bob Parker’s passing and had written three Jesse novels in the interim, I was faced with making several difficult decisions.

Chief among these was how to approach the actual writing of the series. Should I try, like Michael Brandman before me, to stick close to Bob Parker’s style, or should I take a different tack and do something new? In making this decision I spoke to three people. Christine Pepe, my editor and Bob’s editor for over twenty years. Ace Atkins, a longtime friend and colleague who writes the Spenser series. And Tom Schreck, a close writer pal and Parker devotee. Both Chris and Ace were helpful and had great insights, but speaking to them didn’t really get me any closer to making a decision about what approach to take.

It was during my conversation with Tom that the proverbial lightbulb went off and the decision was made. Tom said this, “You know, Reed, I’m a huge Elvis Presley fan.”

This was no shock to me. Tom makes no secret of his adoration for the King. He’s the type of guy who can tell you what songs Elvis sang at such and such concert on such and such date at Lake Tahoe. The question for me was, what did Tom’s love of Elvis Aron Presley have to do with Robert B. Parker and Jesse Stone?

“Yeah, Tom,” I said. “I know.”

“Well, the thing is this, I’ve seen every great Elvis impersonator there is and they are really amazing, but there are two things I can never get past. For one thing, no matter how spot on their performance, I know it’s not really Elvis. And they are trapped, because they can never do anything new or different.”

And with those words I knew I would not try to imitate Bob Parker’s writing style because his readers would always see what I was doing as, at best, a good imitation, or, at worst, as pastiche. I also refused to be limited by the past. So although I keep to the spirit of the older novels and to the spirit of the characters as written by Bob and Michael, I write the novels in my own way. Thanks, Elvis.

Reed Farrel Coleman
Author bio:

Called a hard-boiled poet by NPR’s Maureen Corrigan and the “noir poet laureate” in the Huffington Post, Reed Farrel Coleman is the author of novels, including the acclaimed Moe Prager series, short stories, and poetry.

He is a three-time Edgar Award nominee in three different categories—Best Novel, Best Paperback Original, Best Short Story—and a three-time recipient of the Shamus Award for Best PI Novel of the Year. He has also won the Audie, Macavity, Barry, and Anthony Awards.

A former executive vice president of Mystery Writers of America, Reed Farrel Coleman is an adjunct instructor of English at Hofstra University and a founding member of MWA University. Brooklyn born and raised, he now lives with his family in Suffolk County on Long Island.

Authors Links:
Via publisher:
Twitter: @ReedFColeman

#BlogTour #37Hours #Extract @kirwanjf @TAsTPublicity @HQDigitalUK

37 hours
37 Hours by J.F. Kirwan

The only way to hunt down a killer is to become one…

After two long years spent in a secret British prison, Nadia Laksheva is suddenly granted her freedom. Yet there is a dangerous price to pay for her release: she must retrieve the Russian nuclear warhead stolen by her deadliest enemy, a powerful and ruthless terrorist known only as The Client.

But her mysterious nemesis is always one step ahead and the clock is ticking. In 37 hours, the warhead will explode, reducing the city of London to a pile of ash. Only this time, Nadia is prepared to pull the trigger at any cost…

The deadly trail will take her from crowded Moscow to the silent streets of Chernobyl, but will Nadia find what she is looking for before the clock hits zero?

KIRWAN Barry 01 ret 6x8
J.F. Kirwan
Authors Links:
Twitter: @kirwanjf


Falling out of a plane at night, above a raging sea, lived up to its reputation. Sergei had said the chute would open after ten seconds, long enough to get below the wake from the propellers but not drift too far from the drop zone. But Nadia couldn’t count. She was too busy trying to catch her breath as the wind tore at her mouth.

Goggles protected her eyes, though she could barely see anything as she plummeted through gun-metal-grey clouds. She bit down on an urge to scream, panic rising from her heart up into her throat. Freefalling. It was so damned dark. The sea was racing towards her, but all she saw below was blackness. A cloudy night, no stars, no moon. Must have been eight seconds by now. Nine. Ten. She braced herself for the chute opening.


Where was Sergei? He’d been right beside her on the plane. He was heavier. He’d be below her, wouldn’t he? Or did everyone fall at the same rate? She couldn’t remember. He could be above her if his chute had opened. She looked up. Nothing, just the wind howling in her ears through her neoprene dive hood. How high had they been? How long before she’d hit the water?

At this speed her harness with its air tank would snap her back in two on impact. She had no emergency cord to operate the chute. He’d said it wouldn’t fail. The chute would open. Fifteen seconds now, for sure. Another five and she’d be splattered on the wave-tops. Sergei, where the fuck…

He slammed into her from behind, then spun her around as effortlessly as if they were trapeze artists in that sweet spot where gravity blinks. But they were plunging at terminal velocity, close to two hundred kilometres an hour. His face loomed close, but he was looking down at her chest. He hit her. No, he thumped the buckle to release the failed chute. She slipped away from him. Shit! She lunged for one of his shoulder straps, grabbed it, tugged herself towards him, flailing in the wind like a rag doll. They twisted in mid-air, no longer falling feet first. He looped an arm around her, pulled her close to him, yanked something, and then Nadia realised how the end of a bullwhip felt when it was cracked.

It winded her, but Sergei’s arm pressed her against him, locking them together. Her left hand clung to his harness strap; the other gripped the back of his tank. Finally he looked at her. And smiled. He fucking smiled. Cool bastard. He mouthed something. Then something else. Two. One. She took an urgent breath.

The surface of the sea whacked into her, pounded her feet, ripped off her goggles. The rushing wind was replaced by the soft, numbing sounds of the undersea that she’d loved since her first dive in the Volga at the age of eight. But it was cold, bloody cold. She fumbled for the regulator pinned to her chest, exhaled once to flush out the water, then breathed in. Air – the only thing that really mattered underwater.

Eyes still closed, she fished inside her jacket pocket for her dive mask, donned it, tilted her head back and breathed out through her nose to clear the mask of seawater, equalising pressure in her nose and ears at the same time. She opened her eyes and blinked hard to rinse out the stinging salt water. Sergei was attaching his fins, a torch in his hand.

She unfastened the fins strapped tight around her calves, slipped them on, then found her own halogen lamp. At least the seawater inside her wetsuit had warmed a little from her body heat. Sergei shone a cone of light down into the gloom. He put his hand in the beam and gave her the OK signal. She did the same, careful not to shine it anywhere near his face and render him temporarily night-blind. His smile had gone.

To business.

She checked her depth on the dive computer attached to her left wrist. Fifteen metres. The swell from the roiling waves above swayed her gently, rocking her. But she knew they must be off-course due to the late opening of her chute. The drop had been carefully calculated – vertical height, wind strength and direction, sea state – and now they might be up to half a mile in the wrong place. Sergei showed his hand in the light, fingers spread open, palm down. Stay. Of course. The others had sleds. Let them come to us.

A dull buzzing interrupted her thoughts. Sergei was staring behind her. She finned to spin around and saw a light, then two. The sleds, two divers apiece, one on top, one hanging at the side. They didn’t slow down. A sled approached, and she finned to get a head start, and then grabbed the sled’s rail as it passed. Sergei was on the sled in front. He glanced back once to check she was aboard, then both sleds accelerated to make up for lost time. They stayed at fifteen metres for a good ten minutes, then she felt the pressure on her ears increase, and cleared them – they were descending.

They hit thirty-five metres and levelled off. Still she saw nothing, but the sleds both slowed, and then she saw why. The forward light picked up the huge black tail fin of the Borei Class nuclear submarine, like the fin of a shark, which happened to be the nickname for this class of sub. Sergei’s sled circled behind, his forward beam illuminating the massive propeller. She tried to gauge how long each blade was. Maybe three metres.

Sergei took point again, and fired a flare that fizzed forward like a lazy yellow firework. The sub was one hundred and seventy metres long, only slightly shorter than its predecessor, the Typhoon. But seeing it, positioned at one end while the flare swept forward over its dark beauty, was something else. The flare continued its arc over the conning tower, all the way to the prow, her destination. The light faded and plunged them back into darkness save for the sled’s lights. But the after-image was etched onto her retinas. Russian subs didn’t really go in for names, they were usually referred to as Projects and given a number, but Sergei had told her this one was the Yuri Gagarin. He’d have been proud.

Yet shark was the right label, too. Subs like the Yuri were the ultimate predator, patrolling the oceans, undetectable yet carrying Armageddon on their backs, a dozen missiles, any one of which could obliterate a major city, incinerating hundreds of thousands of people in a heartbeat. They had to stop its warheads falling into the wrong hands.

They picked up speed, the sleds’ beams angled downwards, two ellipses of light tracing the narrow walkway on the foredeck. Both sleds slowed as they reached the missile hatches, a dozen lined up in neat pairs. One was open.

Sergei descended from the sled to the deck, and peered inside with his torch. Nadia wanted to take a look, but the sled driver’s hand clasped around hers, welding it to the sled’s rail. Sergei could clearly see something, but she had no way of knowing what. He rejoined his sled, and both sleds surged forward. She glanced down as she passed the open tube, but could see nothing there, not even the tell-tale white and red cone of the missile itself. She felt a shiver. It looked as if at least one warhead was already missing.

They arrived at the conning tower, its antennae bending in the current, a sturdy metal ladder running down the outside. She wondered how Sergei and the other two were going to board the sub through the conning tower. They tethered their sled to the tower, and as her sled continued its journey, she glanced back, watching Sergei and the others setting up some equipment. She realised two things. The first was that they could easily be killed as soon as they entered the sub. The second was that she didn’t want that to happen, not to Sergei at any rate. She turned her gaze forwards.

The foredeck began to narrow in the beam of light, until it reached the sleek prow of one of Russia’s finest. As they drifted down to the torpedo hatches, she realised she couldn’t see the sea floor. Which didn’t make sense. The sled driver evidently had the same concern. He circled the sled while the second diver fired up a flare, then let it drop. It fell for a full minute before it was lost in the depths. Shit.

The driver gunned the motor and they levelled off on the starboard side with nothing beneath them but a yawning abyss. He fired a flare horizontally, along the sub’s hull, and she watched, unbelieving. Nearly half the sub was hanging over an underwater cliff.


#BlogTour #Review The Black Hornet by @RSinclairAuthor @Bloodhoundbook

Blog Tour (11)

The Black Hornet by Rob Sinclair

The synopsis:

The Black Hornet – an explosive James Ryker Thriller

What do you do when the love of your life vanishes without a trace? If you’re ex-intelligence agent James Ryker you search for the answers whatever the cost, however much blood and sacrifice it takes…

Six months ago Lisa was taken from Ryker, and he’ll stop at nothing to find out who is responsible and why. Following a trail to Mexico, the ex-Joint Intelligence Agency asset soon finds himself in the firing line of enemies he long thought he’d left behind. Set-up for the murder of a former informant, Ryker is thrown into a crumbling jail run by The Black Hornet, the notorious leader of a Mexican drug cartel. But what connects the cartel to the informant’s murder, and to Lisa’s disappearance? And just who is the mystery American claiming he can help Ryker in his hour of need?

The Black Hornet is the second book in the bestselling James Ryker series. Part Bourne, part Reacher, it’s an explosive and action-packed thriller to rival any other

My review:

James Ryker is back!
I had previously read The Red Cobra for review for the blog tour. I found it brilliant the escapism and writing totally blew me away. I didn’t think it could get much better, but I was in for a little surprise, in reading The Black Hornet! Wow! It was like a movie in its action packed delivery. I would even go as far to say that it is better than his last bestselling novel, which I gave 5* also.

The novel opens following on from the ending of The Red Cobra, with Lisa missing and Ryker on a desperate search. Ryker had previously been living in a remote pacific island, off the grid. Who would find them and how?
His search for Lisa will span many various countries such as Mexico and the deep south of the US Louisiana. The author completely brings the locations to life. I felt this was exceptional writing and must not be an easy task for any author to achieve.

On his pursuit of Lisa’s location, Ryker finds himself slung in a Mexican jail, which can only be described as ‘hell’. He must navigate the prison hierarchy and gang alliances, whilst trying to also gain his own freedom. Within the jail the organisation/gang behind the back hornet tattoos, is learnt and it makes for fascinating reading. Who are this organisation? What do they want with Ryker? Do the hold Lisa? Ryker has so many clues but no clear answers……

Eleanor Willoughby is appointed from the British foreign and commonwealth office, in an attempt to protect Ryker’s rights. But with Ryker reluctant to trust a government official and refusing to give even his name. He is clearly in more trouble, than we the reader, could have anticipated. Who can you trust, when everyone is out to get you?

This novel has themes of gang politics, violence, corruption, sex, power and crime. It is incredibly edgy and would make an amazing movie! The authors writing is clearly evolving and the style is intense. At times the novel has quite macho themes similar to the style of writing in Bear Grylls action novels. But it is without a doubt, much better written!
Action packed and full of twists, a cracking read 5*

Rob Sinclair
Authors links:
Twitter: @RSinclairAuthor

*The Black Hornet is available via Kindle Unlimited or for the price of just £1.99!
The perfect treat for a sunny weekend! 🙂