New Year, Great Aspirations and a New Book!

Firstly, happy New Year to one and all! If you’re anything like me, your midriff will still be in a sorry state of calorie overspill. Don’t think I have ever eaten so much, though woe is me, never could I resist pleasurably produced, good old-fashioned Christmas fare. End of. No more. Not for another twelve months. I promise. At least I think so. Well, maybe…

 

 

Secondly, my sincere apologies for lack of blog content, it’s been a tough few months finishing off my second book; Empress Gold. My editor and proof-reader is halfway through and the finished article should be up and running on Amazon Kindle, Kobo and hopefully, Apple iBook by the end of April, so lots to look forward to. Have stuck an excerpt on here for you; more of a thriller/adventure novel, some of the characters you will recognise from Sons of Africa. It sort of follows on, but will definitely work as a standalone. Anyway, read the excerpt and have a gander at the superb cover artwork. My graphic design expert, Lon Chan has done me proud: a man of masterly touch and great imagination.

 

 

My best for 2013 and your occasional popping in to read my ramblings will be much looked forward to.  I value your interest; would be kind of lost without you.

 

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Excerpt from Empress Gold:

 ... Again, his loathing for what Pasviri stood for threatened to spill out. He was losing control of the Deep. Everything his family had built up was being torn apart; chopped up and flung to the Party elite for them to squabble over.

‘What about recompense? Financial compensation for lost interests.’

‘You’re alive, Mister Goddard.’ Pasviri’s eyes narrowed. ‘In our new Zimbabwe, most men would regard that fact as recompense enough.’ He nodded to his entourage. ‘Leave us. I will join you shortly.’

In the quiet, two men, both of different origins stood just metres apart. Had it been a hundred years previous, rather than the surroundings of a plush office there would have been thick forest and the discomfort of cold guti rain to contend with. Their dress, as decreed by historical circumstance would have been for Pasviri, fashioned from the skins of jackal and leopard and for Lee, a uniform of roughly woven calico, topped with slouch hat; across his chest would hang a soldier’s bandoliers, loaded with British South Africa Company’s, .44 calibre, Boxer-Henry ammunition.

 ‘In our grandfathers’ day,’ said Pasviri, ‘forgive me for quoting the Bible, but kaffirs, as we were referred to were tolerated only under sufferance, the proverbial hewers of wood and carriers of water.’ He took his time lighting another cigarette. ‘Not any more, comrade. Along with your infamous Mister Rhodes, the heady days of white supremacy are well and truly buried – forever.’

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