Sunday, 20 January 2019

Guest Author Stephen Bentley of the Philippines, formerly of the UK.




Who can tell a detective story better than a former policeman, or a trial lawyer? Stephen Bentley has been both. He is kind enough to be our guest this a week, sharing his thoughts in a 4Q Interview and sharing an excerpt from his newest novel - Rivers of Blood.







Stephen Bentley is a former UK police Detective Sergeant and barrister (criminal trial attorney). He is now a freelance writer and an occasional contributor to Huffington Post UK on undercover policing.
His memoir 'Undercover: Operation Julie - The Inside Story' is a frank account of his undercover detective experiences during Operation Julie - an elite group of detectives who successfully investigated one of the world's largest drug rings.
Stephen also writes crime fiction in a fast-paced plot-driven style including the fictional Steve Regan Undercover Cop Series.
When he isn't writing, Stephen follows the (mis)fortunes of Liverpool Football Club from afar and relaxes on the beaches of the Philippines with his family where he now lives. 


He would like you to know that he will donate a portion of all book sales royalties to the James Bulger Memorial Trust, a UK registered charity.



Website and Social Media
You may find him on Twitter as  https://twitter.com/StephenBentley8
Connect with him at www.stephenbentley.info

















4Q: Tell us about Steve Regan, the Undercover Cop.


SB: Before I do, may I just correct one thing. Rivers of Blood is not novel length. All three books in the series are novellas designed to tell a story at its natural length.

Regan? He is not me. You need to read one of my answers below to grasp the meaning of that. He’s British, hails from Liverpool and has that typical humor common in that city. He detests routine, paperwork and bureaucracy.

He was a regular detective before becoming an undercover agent, infiltrating OCG’s – organized crime gangs with a regular police department. His fine undercover skills bring him to the notice of a secret UK government department.

Regan drinks beer, smokes cigarettes and likes the ladies. They also like him. Owing to the nature of his work, he is unafraid to take risks and go out on a limb.

He’s nobody’s fool and recognizes one of the hazards of his work – identity confusion. The somewhat controversial title of Book 1 in the series is a nod to that state of mind but expressed graphically.



4Q:Two of your books are now available in audiobook format. Do you think listening rather than reading adds anything to the enjoyment of a book?


SB: Yes, I do have an opinion on this. My first book in the Steve Regan series was also my first fiction book. I must confess, with the benefit of hindsight, I could have started it in better fashion such as more action. Some early reader reviews justifiably did mention that. Yet, the thing is with the audiobook version, the listener seems not to be bothered by that as they are fascinated with the excellent narration of my story.
It intrigues me as it seems to be the case when we read, we “hear” our voice. Now, that inner voice may not be doing justice to the written word. But put those same words into the mouth of a professional narrator and it holds the listener’s attention.




4Q: Please share a childhood memory or anecdote with us.


SB:
I was about six and sports crazy even then. My teacher asked a question of the class: “how many seasons of the year are there?”

I can tell you my hand was first up. The teacher said, “Stephen, what is your answer?” Proudly and confidently, I replied, “Two, Miss.”

Two?” she queried looking puzzled, “and what may they be?”

Football and cricket, Miss.”





The teacher belly laughed. I did not know why or understand until she said, “Good answer, but what about winter, spring, summer, and autumn (fall)?”

The penny dropped. My first real taste of embarrassment. In her wisdom, she related this story to my parents. I was reminded of it for many years at family gatherings.





4Q: Rivers of Blood is the third book in the Undercover Cop series. Tell us about the first two books.



SB: Book 1 Who The F*ck Am I? sees Regan infiltrating a worldwide drug ring. The opening mirrors my own factual experiences on Operation Julie, Britain’s biggest drug bust.

In real life and while undercover, I met a Mafia-connected gangster who involved me, the undercover cop, in a conspiracy to import huge amounts of cocaine into the UK from Bolivia via Miami.

The gangster was reported to have been dealt with by the DEA and sentenced to a 25-year prison sentence. But was he?

Moving from fact to fiction in Book 1, Regan is tempted to cross the line, go rogue as he needs money to help his mother who has been diagnosed with a terminal illness.

This leads him into infiltrating a South American/Miami-based cartel. Regan gets involved in one deal with a drug lord.



But is everyone who they say they are?

I wrote about my real undercover days in Undercover: Operation Julie – The Inside Story.







Book 2, Dilemma sees Regan back and this time he’s alone and undercover in a seedy area of Thailand on the trail of a Texan expatriate, Les Watkins, the biggest drug smuggler in South East Asia.




Using himself as the bait, Regan attempts to score a $50,000 deal with the Thai mafia in an effort to get closer to his target.

As he finds himself embroiled deeper into the operation, Regan suspects Watkins may be connected to Regan's nemesis, ruthless Mafia boss Carlo Vitale, who has fled the United States following a triple bombing and assassination of three crime family heads.

Besides staying alive, Regan has other problems when he suddenly finds himself facing the worst dilemma an undercover cop can face.


















Excerpt from Rivers of Blood, Book 3 Steve Regan Undercover Cop now on pre-order (release date March 1 2019) 



I offered coffee. They got mugs from the kitchen and poured coffee for themselves and topped up mine. They were both relaxed. I liked that. Relaxed in manner and dress. Both wore loud Hawaiian-style shirts and blue jeans. Both sported tans befitting any true-blue Aussie. They didn’t look or act like cops. I was now also relaxed. I knew I was with good guys, professionals.
You got the recording device?” Kenny spoke again.
Yes, and it’s working,” I said.
Just one thing,” said Wally.
What’s that?” I asked.
You think it best if you are tooled up when you meet this guy?” Wally said.
Yeah, I do. For two reasons. One, I’m a hitman. Two, I got insurance if it all goes to shit,” I said.
Wally handed me a 9mm semi-automatic. I checked it out. There was thirteen in the clip and nothing in the chamber. I slipped the safety on and stuck it into the shoulder holster Wally gave me.
Okay.” I said, “I’m as ready as I’m going to be. Let’s do it.”
***
Wally drove once more with Kenny as front passenger. I sat in the rear. We drove for about twenty minutes to a large sports stadium. He parked on the huge but empty car park.
We waited. I had a sudden thought.
Does this fucking informant know who I am?”
He has no idea. He doesn’t even know we are cops. That’s how we know he’s a top-class reliable informant. He reports back to his handler talking about us two as bad guys.”
Cool!” I said.
A six-foot five-inch giant strode toward the car. “That’s him,” Wally said. I was happy I was tooled-up. This guy could be a handful if it all went down the pan.
The giant rapped on Kenny’s window with knuckles the size of golf balls. I saw the swastika tattoo on the back of his hand. Kenny hit the power button and the window slid down silently.
The giant spoke, “Let’s talk over there.” He pointed towards an old trestle table and some plastic chairs probably left there by someone who had set up a hotdog stall on the car park.
The four of us sat down. Wally spoke first, “Brad, this is the guy I was telling you about. He’s a pro and out-of-town.”
Brad looked at me and said, “Got a name?”
I got one, thanks. All you need to know is I’m Mr. Smith. You can call me John.”
Brad said, “John Smith?”
Yeah. You have a problem with that?”
No, not so far.”
Brad paused before saying, “I got to check you over. Make sure you’re not wearing a wire. Okay?”
Please yourself,” I said. Brad patted me down, checked the small of my back then said, “Drop yer pants.”
I unfastened my belt, unzipped my jeans and dropped them to my knees. “Satisfied? Or maybe you want to see my dick?”
Brad showed no emotion. He said, “Yeah, satisfied. Can’t be too sure these days. Feds everywhere.” It was hard not to smile.
Brad spoke again, “Right, you come with me. I’ll introduce you to the man who’s going to fund the contract. You two can fuck off now. Thanks for bringing him here.”
Kenny and Wally walked over to the car and drove off leaving Brad and me alone on the car park. ‘This is where the fun starts,’ I thought. I was right.
No sooner had Kenny and Wally driven off, a blue pick-up truck drove on to the car park and stopped next to us. Two skinheads jumped out. One pinned my arms back and the other shoved a bag over my head. It was black and made of cloth. It stunk of petrol. I couldn’t see a thing. Both skinheads bundled me into the rear seat of the truck. I could feel my gun removed from the holster I was wearing. I sat and didn’t make a sound. I heard someone say, “Get this fucking ute moving. Let’s go!” I knew a ‘ute’ was Strine for a utility vehicle or pick-up truck.
I reckon it was twenty minutes before we pulled up and the driver turned off the engine. I heard the rear passenger door open and I was pulled out of the truck. I still couldn’t see a thing. I heard a door opened. It sounded like a big door on industrial or retail premises unlike a house door. I heard it close behind me with a clang confirming I wasn’t in someone’s home. I could feel a hand in the small of my back; it pushed me, propelling me a few yards until I felt hands on my shoulders. I was twisted to walk in a new direction. This all reminded me of the game we used to play as kids, blindman’s bluff, but this was no game. I could smell cigarette smoke. I stumbled over something and the hands pushed me down. I was now sat on the chair that I had stumbled on a few seconds earlier. Then I could see. The black cloth bag had been whipped from my head.
I saw him sat behind a large desk. The desk was between the two of us. I guess Brad and the skinheads were stood behind me somewhere. I couldn’t see anyone except the man behind the desk. He spoke.
Do you know who I am?” He asked.
No idea,” I replied.
Good. I’m told you can get rid of someone for us.”
I can get rid of anyone you want if the price is right. That’s what I do.”
You can call me Pat,” said the man behind the desk. He was about forty years old. He was either bald or had shaved off all his hair. It was difficult to tell which. He had a full beard that ran down to his chest but no moustache. He shaved above his upper lip. I noticed more than anything his cold, blue eyes. Pat stubbed out a cigarette into a large metal ashtray perched on top of the desk. It was next to a telephone. ‘That reminds me.’ I thought.
Mind if I smoke?”
Pat nodded. I was relieved. I got out one cigarette from my pack and pulled out ‘Jack’s’ lighter. I pressed the small button on the base and ignited the lighter. I lit my cigarette. 





This is the conversation recorded and later transcribed for evidential purposes:
Pat: “You were saying. So? what’s the right price?”
Me: “Depends.”
Pat: “On what?”
Me: “Is the target high or low profile?”
Pat: ‘He’s high profile. A politician we must eliminate before our country is fucking ruined.”
Me: “I don’t care about politics. It’s just work to me. But it presents more risks if he’s a politician. More risks to me, that is.”
Pat: “How much then?”
Me: “Twenty plus expenses.”
Pat whistles.
Pat: “Thousand?”
Me: “Yes.”
Pat: “That’s three months’ profits from our grow.”
Me: “It’s up to you. You’re hiring. Not me.”
Pat: “You’re a cool dude.”
Me: “It’s what keeps me alive.”
Pat: “How would you do it?”
Me: “I don’t know yet who you want hit.”
Pat: “Paul Carter.”
Me: “And…?”
Pat: “And what?”
Me. Who is he exactly?”
Pat: “A government minister, a high-up.”
Me: “I’ll need to scope him. Get to know his movements, even when he takes a dump. Only then will I know the best way to rub him out. I take it you do want him dead?”
Pat: “Sure do. Him and all the other mother-fuckers too. They are all too soft on abbos, Vietnamese, all the other coloured immigrants. This is a white country and will always be white if we’ve got anything to do with it. White is might. White is right.”
I felt myself shudder but it didn’t show. I said, “Right. We have a deal. Twenty thousand and five expenses.”
Pat: “Five?”
Me: “Yeah five. Business class return, good hotel to lie low, sundry expenses. All paid by wire to my offshore account. Fifty percent down and the rest when the job’s done.”
Pat: “So that’s twenty-five total. Twelve and a half up front?”
Me: “That’s right. Here’s my card with my bank details. Get rid of it after you have paid me in full.”
Pat looked at the business card.
Pat: “John Smith?”
Me: “Yes, that’s me. If we’re finished, which we are, then maybe one of your helpers can drop me off in the city?”
Pat: “No problem. Brad, you heard the man.”
Me: “One more thing. Gun please.”
Pat handed the gun back to me and I slid it back in the shoulder holster

End of Excerpt








Universal Book Links to Rivers of Blood http://mybook.to/riversofblood
Amazon Kindle
All other eBook formats at Books2Read




Thank you, Stephen, for being our guest this week. All the best with your writing.

SB It was great and I really enjoyed it, Thank you for the opportunity.



Friday, 11 January 2019

The Alexanders - Dominic. 1911 - 1920





I love Historical Fiction.


The first draft of The Alexanders – Dominic, 1911 – 1920 is complete! Now comes the revisions, the corrections, the beta readers, the editing, the cover design….



Please read an excerpt from 1917 – World War 1 rages in Europe. Dominic goes to war. But before he goes, he attends a going away party, a birthday party...and he gets to try Poutine Rapee for the first time!















1917

When Dominic tells the recruiter about his bad leg and how he was rejected back in Scotland, he is informed that there are shortages of many men for different phases of the war besides the infantry but just as dangerous. When Dominic joins up he’s being assigned to the 26th Battalion (New Brunswick) under the command of Lt-Col A.E.G. McKenzie. Elements of the Battalion have recently been used in the Battle of the Somme and are now being readied for a planned British offensive on the German held French city of Arras but that’s not where he’s going. He’s advised that when he arrives in England he will be seconded to the Royal Air Corps to receive his training as an observer
During the first weeks of February he goes on basic training in Valcartier, Quebec. It’s torturous, his leg aches every night. He discovers muscles he never knew he had until they show up being sore. The one thing is he’s exemplary at (his trainer’s words) is marksmanship. The Ross Mk II rifle and he have become close friends, almost lovers. Other recruits argue that it is too long for trench warfare but Dominic sticks up for the rifle proclaiming its long range precision as being significant. His rate of accuracy is the highest in his company. Training is shortened by the urgent call for men from across the ocean. He’s given a four day pass before he ships out.
The twenty-fifth of February is bitterly cold, especially just as the sun sets, which is early today at 5:20. Any time spent out of doors is an invitation to more than frost bite, more like a frost banquet. Exposed skin will freeze in twenty minutes. It’s been that long since Dominic left his house. Walking into the city, he’s warm inside his new greatcoat. Ice crystals whiten a khaki scarf that covers his mouth. A beaver skin hat is pulled down to cover head, ears, nape of his neck and forehead. The greatcoat goes to his ankles. Pure Canadian wool that keeps you warm even if it gets wet. Inside the heavy coat, Private Dominic Alexander is wearing the olive drab uniform of the Canadian Expeditionary Force, wool jacket, shirt and tie and heavy wool pants with leggings wrapped about his calf to his knees, tucked into black sturdy boots large enough for two pairs of socks. He’s bundled up against the cold.



Two days from now, on Tuesday, he’s to report for duty at 6:00 a.m. in Halifax where he will embark for England on the HMS Andania. Dominic will depart for the war from the same wharf he arrived at a little over two years ago. Tonight he is attending a going away party for him and today is also his birthday. When he turns up Cameron Street, Maria’s aunt’s house is on the next corner on Gordon Street, less than a minute away. He’s familiar enough with the large house where Maria and her family tend to have their gatherings because the place is so big. Ma tante Emma, as she is called, is a widower whose late husband was a doctor. An addition contained his offices at one time but now they are all divided rooms to let, providing a continuous income. She keeps the main house as it was, terribly big, bought with the expectation of many running feet when they were younger, but alas, that wasn’t to be. A large open living room and adjoining parlour can hold twenty people in comfort. The kitchen has a cozy nook and small table in one corner and room for three or four cooks. With a dining room containing heavy furniture that can seat ten, there’s plenty of space. No one enjoys a get together more than ma tante Emma and her home is the perfect spot.

People are coming over later but Emma invited him to come earlier and have supper with her and Maria, who has been there helping. She made an old family recipe especially for Dominic, an Acadian treat she told him. What she called it sounded like Poo-tin Raw-pay. Maria assured him they are delicious and a lot of work to make.
Dressed as warm as he is, by the time he knocks on the front door, he’s starting to feel a chill. A faint command to “come in” seeps through the keyhole and he enters the foyer. Maria greets him in the hallway, standing back slightly, not recognizing the shrouded figure at first. Only when he removes the scarf away from his mouth does she know who it is.

Hello my beloved. Come in quick, don’t let too much of that cold in here.”

Regarding the coat of frost on the scarf where it covered his mouth, her eyes widen in disbelief.

My goodness Dominic, did you walk from your house?”

While removing the hat, he’s nodding.

Aye I did. I didn’t realize it was this cold.”

She pays more attention to his clothing as he removes his greatcoat.

Oh how wonderful Dominic, you wore your new uniform. Here, give me that coat and let me see.”

She calls out to her aunt who is setting the table in the kitchen nook where she, Maria and Dominic will have their supper.

Ma tante Emma, vien voir Dominic avec sa nouvelle uniforme!” (“Aunt Emma, come see Dominic with his new uniform”).


Passing his coat and hat to Maria, Dominic removes his boots to leave them at the door and steps forward to meet Emma. She doesn’t walk so much as she waddles instead. She’s a big woman, not too tall, with open arms and a large bosom that begs to be hugged. Rosy cheeks always look like they’re blushing and a perpetual smile adorns her face. Short greyish curls top her round head. An aroma of boiled potatoes follows her.

What a handsome lad you are Dominic. A shame that you have to go off to war. We’ll have to telegram ahead to warn all those young British girls, won’t we Maria?”





She says that with a wink and engulfs Dominic in her arms. Stooping a bit to enjoy the warmth of her embrace, he takes in the lovely scent of jasmine she always wears.

Now come Dominic, we have some delicious poutines for you. I’ve made a batch for our company to enjoy later on. If it’s one thing you will learn from us Acadians is that we love a good meal.”




Placing Dominic’s coat, scarf and hat on a hanger, Maria stows them in the closet by the front door and gives her boyfriend a quick hug, a peck on the check and waves for him to follow. The hallway has a set of stairs on the right and extends toward the back on the left. Colorful ribbons are strung around the walls and a hand printed sign hangs over the stairway proclaiming Bon Voyage, Happy Birthday and Best Wishes. The dining room is on the immediate right and the kitchen is on the same side. A table in the corner of the kitchen is set for three and Emma invites Dominic to take the head of the table near the window and has Maria take the side seat facing the kitchen and her place setting is on the opposite end of Dominic’s. She spoons out each a poutine on three plates and brings one to set in front of Maria and the other in front of Dominic. He stares at it and loses his appetite.

For those who’ve never eaten poutine rapee, the first time you see one can be a perplexing proposition. Dominic doesn’t know what to say. The object on his plate is the size of a grapefruit, a misshapen, steaming globule that makes him think of snowballs. Emma sets her plate down and turns to get them some tea. Maria is slicing hers in half when she notices the look on Dominic’s face and starts to giggle. She’s seen the same look before when someone is introduced to this delicacy.

They’re much tastier than they look Dominic. Just cut it in bite size chunks and add some sugar or molasses on it. There’s delicious meat in the middle and you can choose between white sugar or brown sugar. I like brown sugar on mine. Some folks just eat them with salt and pepper.
He replies hesitatingly.

Okay, if you say so.”






Not wanting to seem ungrateful, he does as she suggests. Picking up his knife, he slices the poutine down the middle. The two halves divide to expose a center of tender chunks of pork that have been salted and spiced.

Well it certainly smells good.”

After placing cups the cups of tea down, Emma joins them.

I prefer molasses on mine Dominic. You can try a little bite of each and see which you like best.”

Slicing small tentative pieces, he sprinkles a bit of brown sugar on one, white sugar on another, a drip of molasses on the third and only salt and pepper on the fourth. Not sure about sugar on potatoes, he tries the unsweetened one first. Biting into it, he closes his eyes and his teeth sink into the firm but creamy potato mixture with tender pieces of pork that almost melt in his mouth.

Mmmm, it is good! Certainly much better than I expected.”

Maria agrees as she chews on her own piece.

Told you so, didn’t I?”

Dominic tries the sweetened pieces and a smile states how much he agrees with the flavors but decides he likes the natural taste of the poutine best with salt and pepper. Poutine is a heavy meal and he shares a second one with Emma, Maria is full with just one. For their dessert one of her neighbors has dropped off a raisin pie for the celebration and it is another food that Dominic has not had before and he falls in love with the flaky crust and the sweetness of the dried fruit. The plates are cleared off and washed up before the trio sit at the table with their last cup of tea. People will not begin arriving before seven o’clock. With everything ready for their guests they broach a variety of subjects.

Dominic wonders how you make poutine. Emma fills him in.

Well we started with about 90 potatoes because we wanted to have 60 poutine or so. After we peel them, half of them are boiled and mashed. The other half is grated, the liquid squeezed out with a cheese cloth which we call epurer. Salt and milk are added and the two potato mixtures are blended together, we call that part meler. Then you need to be quick because if the potato mixture is left out too long, they turn grey, still as tasty but not so pretty. So you form them into balls, rouler, add seasoned pork in the center and put them in a pot of boiling water for two hours and voila, you have poutine rapee.”

Wow! That does seem like a lot of work”

Emma is Maria’s favorite aunt and she loves the rapport and goodwill between her aunt and her boyfriend and listens to their banter. Emma shows concern with knitted brows when she asks Dominic about going to war.

What’s going to happen when you get to England Dominic?”











Thank you to Paul Chiasson (RIP) for explaining the making of poutine.

Thank you dear reader  for visiting the Scribbler. The Alexanders – Dominic 1911 – 1920 will be published in 2019. Watch here for more details.


Coming soon is my collection of short stories, some previously published on commuterlit.com, here on The Scribbler, and several on limited editions booklets dedicated to my grandchildren. Many of them are new. Titled Boxes of Memories.

Watch for details.



Saturday, 5 January 2019

Guest Author Susan Toy. Readers...Resolve To Read More This Year.



Always fun to have this lady as our guest.
 
 

Susan M. Toy is a Reader first, and then an author of two published novels and one novella. She shares her time between a trailer in southwestern Ontario and a verandah on the island of Bequia, where she can always be found … Reading!


Readers … resolve to read more in 2019!

 

I am a reader and I read a lot of books! No matter how many I read however I never seem to catch up with my ginormous to-be-read stack/list of books. Even though I try to follow Dr. Seuss’s advice:

 
 
 
I never manage to come even close to catching up.
But then that’s part of the fun in reading, isn’t it? The search for new books to read, test-driving new authors’ writing, the joy in “discovering” a new-to-you book or even a genre that you’ve never read before. I’ve spent my entire life reading and working with books and authors and am an author now myself, yet I never tire of reading, thinking about, discussing, recommending and discovering new books!
I know there are many others out there just like me, too, so that’s why I say to you now – Make it your New Year’s resolution to read even more in 2019! You don’t need to count the books you do read, or compare numbers you’ve read with others. We are all different, we readers, not only in how fast we can read, but also in when and where we like to read, how we approach our reading, and even why or what we read in the first place. So no judgement calls here at all, folks! Just the suggestion that if you enjoy reading, you might want to make it a priority in your life to read even more.  I won’t go into the many ways that you can make more time to read. I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.




To help other readers along a little bit with suggestions as to what they might consider reading, I recently created a Facebook Group Your next great read ... suggestions for readers and authors that I hope will not only generate lists of books and authors for other readers to enjoy reading, but also some discussion about books and reading in general. It’s an open group and anyone may join – authors too, because authors are (or should be!!) readers themselves. Self-promotion is allowed, but authors are requested to contribute information on other books and authors, as well. I would love to see – eventually – a large membership of readers from all around the world (and we already have the beginnings of an international group) who benefit from the reading experience of everyone. I’m particularly interested in world literature (although only what is available in English, in my case) so I would love to hear about authors in other countries, especially non-English-speaking, who are publishing books that are available in English translation. I know other members already contributing to the site are also interested in particular genres or types of writing. Why not join us and see if you find something new-to-you that becomes Your Next Great Read!

So, Readers, are you ready to resolve to read more in 2019? I hope so, and that you will consider joining us. And, if you’re not on Facebook but are still looking for ways to encourage yourself to stick with this resolution of reading more, I suggest you consider following these blogs …

(This one, of course!) Allan Hudson’s South Branch Scribbler


And my own blog, Books: Publishing, Reading, Writing (I’m planning on writing a series, actually, about all the How, When, Why, Where, What, and Who on reading – subscribe to my blog and Stay Tuned!)

I mention these blogs primarily because we three authors make a habit of promoting other authors and their books. We also all write or have written about writing and publishing as self-published authors and we reblog interesting articles and blog posts written by other authors as well. As my personal interest has swayed from selling books to finding more readers for writing in general, I’ve written a number of posts aimed at readers (as well as addressing directly authors who continue to promote their own work too much!). You might find something interesting in one of these articles:

Why not read books simply because they’re well-written?


A challenge to all Readers …


HOW to get promotion for yourself and your book …








With great thanks to Allan Hudson for encouraging me to write this blog post and offering to host me, once again, on South Branch Scribbler! It’s always a pleasure to appear on your blog, Allan!
 

 It is my utmost joy to have you here Susan.
 
 

Susan M. Toy is a Reader first, and then an author of two published novels and one novella. She shares her time between a trailer in southwestern Ontario and a verandah on the island of Bequia, where she can always be found … Reading!
 
 


 
If you missed Susan's previous visits, interviews and short stories, follow these links.

50 Ways to Lose Your Liver.

4Q Interview

Family Jewels