Step right this way, step inside, and see the greatest show ever to amaze your senses and baffle your mind. Watch! As a budding friendship is slowly but completely transformed before your very eyes! Marvel! At how stupid four very intelligent young people can actually be when confronted with life’s mysteries! Gasp! With indignation at the skullduggery and bad manners brought in the pursuits of love, fame, wealth, and let’s be honest, a lot more wealth. Blush! At some of the language! Laugh! Primarily at some of those waistcoats! Tremble! At the revelation of worlds beyond worlds and compacts most rare and Faustian!
Buy! This! Book!
On Amazon Kindle (US | UK), on Lulu (print | eBook), on iBooks, on Nook, on Kobo…
What’s it about? What’s it about? You’ve heard all this and you still need to know more? Allow me:
The year is 1900. An Earl, an engineer, a suburban philosopher, and an enigma meet at University and make a pact to learn the art of conjuring.
But nothing among the friends is quite as it seems, and soon the happy four are plunged into worlds of political activism, crime, despair, sordid trysts, and a Faustian compact which seems set to threaten their very lives, one by one…
In addition to writing slightly more serious speculative and uncategorisable fiction and the odd story about niche sports under the name you see on the masthead, I occasionally put out much more frivolous nonsense under the name Melissa Snowdon. The Melissa Snowdon ID is largely just a matter of being tidy: the writing I do under that header is usually written at my friends via GChat and for the primary purpose of entertaining them and me rather than because I have a burning yen to produce a piece of art. Consequently the work is usually ridiculous and contains a far higher ratio of sex scenes to plot than anything else I write.
This time I’ve got together with a dear friend, confederate, and hideous enabler who decided she was going to take this “nom de plume” business very seriously and has assigned herself the moniker “Dionysia Hill“; in order to push home the fact that this particular novella is pure pulp trash, a detective pastiche that involves very little in the way of real crime-solving and is mostly an excuse to write self-indulgently about hangovers and pretty boys, I decided to make the cover for this one a homage to a lot of incredi-bad gay pulp novels of the 70s.
Wilberforce Kemp is a private detective. He’s not especially good at it, and he has a drink-chugging demon to keep fed, but he’s a private detective all the same and that means when a beautiful red-head comes into his decaying office and pays him to dig up a missing boyfriend, it’s his job to find the guy… even if he kinda wants the red-head all to himself. In a case that will bring him elbow-to-elbow with all the low-lives he’s been drinking to avoid, Wil Kemp is up to his neck in trouble all over again.
This pastiche of the hard-boiled detective trope brings romance and sarcasm a-plenty.
Because I didn’t enrol this one in the Kindle Select programme yet (and thus cannot have “give this away for free” days), I’ve also made it available as a print book for those of you who prefer hard copies of your reading materials/don’t have eReaders. If you have a non-Kindle eReader, contact me and chuck me $0.99 (the price on the Kindle site), and I can send you a copy as an .epub or .pdf or, providing I can find a suitable converter, any common eReader format you like.
Happy reading! I promise there will be a less silly book out sooner or later but in the meantime why not try this? It’s only a dollar.