It Could Be … What? by Zoë Sharp

In times of economic difficulty—OK, make that the screaming dive of recession—people often think of the lottery as a possible answer to all their prayers and problems. Your view of such form of gambling might be similar to George Orwell’s in his classic novel of a dystopian future, 1984. (Well, it was written in 1949.) Orwell described a state-run lottery which was designed to keep the minds of the Proles occupied with something other than the reality of their situation.

But nevertheless, even if you don’t regularly play the lottery, the topic of what you’d do if you suddenly came into a substantial amount of money is one that’s often discussed.

So, what would you do with your newly acquired millions? Buy a Bentley? A big house with a helicopter pad on the back lawn and a billiard table in the basement? Learn to drive, fly or even play billiards?

The reality of it may surprise you. What follows is a list of the top twenty first items purchased after a lottery win in the UK:

1. Washing machine
2. Sofa
3. iPad
4. Handbag
5. Sports clothes
6. Footwear (shoes / trainers)
7. Games console (Nintendo Wii, PlayStation 3 and XBox)
8. Vacuum cleaner
9. Make-up
10. High street fashion clothing
11. TV (average size 42in)
12. Jewellery
13. Laptop
14. Fridge / freezer
15. Holiday (Spain, Egypt and Canary Islands)
16. Garden furniture
17. Kitchen utensils
18. Carpet
19. Sound system
20. Luggage

Not exactly earth-shattering, are they? But it shows, I think the caution with which people approach their financial situation these days.

And perhaps what might be more interesting would be the top twenty SECOND items purchased …

So, after you’ve looked after your family and friends, and made your donations to charity, what would YOU do with a lottery win?

And finally, on a slight note of BSP, last week saw the US publication of DIE EASY: Charlie Fox book ten. I hope a copy might find its way onto your wish-list. The nice thing is you don’t even need to have won the lottery to buy a copy!

“Zoë Sharp is one of the sharpest, coolest, and most intriguing writers I know. She delivers dramatic, action-packed novels with characters we really care about. And once again, in DIE EASY, Zoë Sharp is at the top of her game.”—New York Times best-seller, Harlan Coben

There are several Words of the Week this week. All alternative meanings to medical terms:

Artery — the study of paintings

Barium — what doctors do when patients die

Cauterise — made eye-contact with her

Enema — not a friend

Morbid — a higher offer

Tumour — more than one

Varicose — nearby                                                                                   

Zoë Sharp

 

Read the first two chapters of Bruce DeSilva's Cliff Walk.

Read the first two chapters of Bruce DeSilva's Cliff Walk. http://pauldbrazill.wordpress.com/2013/01/07/cliff-walk-by-bruce-desilva-read-the-first-two-chapters/

Chris Knopf and The Next Big Thing

Chris Knopf has taken part in The Next Big Thing Blog Hop.

He talks about CRIES OF THE LOST, the sequel to his very successful DEAD ANYWAY.

Dani Amore Joins The Hardboiled Collective

The brilliantly talented crime writer Dani Amore has now joined THE HARDBOILED COLLECTIVE!

WELCOME DANI!

The Next Big Thing by Zoë Sharp

Screenwriter and novelist Stephen Gallagher collared me last week for this, The Next Big Thing blog hop. He breezily explained that all I had to do was answer ten questions on my next or latest project, then tag five other willing victims—erm, esteemed authors—to do the same. Stephen likened it to grains of rice on a chessboard, and that within a few weeks there would not be an untagged writer left on the planet. While there’s still time, here are my answers to the ten burning questions:

Q1) What is the title of your book?

A1) The latest new book out is DIE EASY: Charlie Fox book ten. It finds ex-army turned bodyguard, Charlie Fox, working close protection at a celebrity fundraising event in New Orleans. But all the glitter attracts entirely the wrong kind of attention, and Charlie soon finds herself outnumbered, unarmed, and unable to rely on the one person she should be able to trust with her life.

Q2) Where did the idea come from?

A2) I’ve always loved the old Bruce Willis classic, ‘Die Hard’, and I wanted to do my own take on that movie, giving Charlie some kind of ‘bare feet’ handicap as she battles the bad guys. And after visiting New Orleans post-Katrina, I knew I wanted to set a book there. The two ideas came together and what else could I call Die Hard meets The Big Easy but DIE EASY?

Q3) What genre best defines your book?

A3) I usually say it’s a crime thriller. Charlie isn’t a detective, and she’s more likely to shoot the bad guy than drag him off to jail, but she’s fighting for what she believes is right, to protect those who can’t protect themselves, to see justice of a sort done, and to bring order to things.

Q4) What actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie?

A4) Long list. Somebody like Gina Carano, Kate Beckinsale, Jessica Biel or Natalia Tena would be great as Charlie Fox herself. For Sean Meyer, Sam Worthington, or Max Beesley, or maybe even Alex O’Loughlin. After Charlie and Sean move to New York to work for Parker Armstrong, I saw him as Mark Harmon. For Charlie’s sometimes cold and clinical consultant surgeon father, Michael Kitchen or Ian Richardson would be perfect, and Dame Judi Dench for her fussy but ultimately strong mother. Why not aim high?

Q5) What is the one-sentence synopsis?

A5) ‘Die Hard’ in the Big Easy

Q6) Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

A6) In the States, DIE EASY is taking the conventional publication route, via Pegasus Books in New York. For other territories, however, I’m going the indie route.

Q7) How long did it take you to write the first draft?

A7) Probably about four months, then edits after that. I plan it out beforehand and try to stick to that plan, summarizing as I go. It’s a nice theory, but it doesn’t always quite work out that way …

Q8) What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

A8) That’s a good question. Charlie has been likened to other people—Lee Child’s Jack Reacher, Thomas Perry’s Jane Whitefield, even Ian Fleming’s James Bond. I just set out to write the kind of character I wanted to read about. If other people like her, that’s a terrific bonus.

Q9) Who or what inspired you to write this book?

A9) I’m always looking for a new challenge for Charlie. I’m constantly pressure-testing her to see how she reacts. This was another test. I threw in old loyalties, old rivalries, a blood feud, and lost love and betrayal—both of the characters and of the city in which they find themselves. I threw RPGs, downed helicopters, pirates and gangbangers at her. I stripped her of weapons and backup, then told her to get in there and do her job. She did, with her usual nerve and skill, even if this time not everybody’s going to come out of it alive.

Q10) What else about the book might pique the reader's interest?

A10) You mean that’s not enough? Sheesh, you guys are a tough crowd. OK, how about this praise from Harlan Coben—“Zoë Sharp is one of the sharpest, coolest, and most intriguing writers I know. She delivers dramatic, action-packed novels with characters we really care about. And once again, in DIE EASY, Zoë Sharp is at the top of her game."

One of the ideas of The Next Big Thing is that I put another five victims in my sights for next week. For this I’ve chosen some names you may not know, but really ought to:

CJ Ellisson is the author of four wicked and witty paranormal suspense novels in the VV Inn series about a 580-year-old vampire who attracts trouble as readily as she attracts men.

Danuta Reah, who also writes as Carla Banks, is the author of psychological mysteries set as far afield as Saudi Arabia and Eastern Europe, as well as in her native Sheffield.

Sheila Quigley is based in the northeast of England and is the bestselling author of seven books, with the eighth, THE FINAL COUNTDOWN, due in December, which is the last in a trilogy featuring DI Mike Yorke and set around Holy Island.

Graham Smith has been a fan of fiction since being given Enid Blyton’s Famous Fiv e books when he was eight. Since then he’s been writing his Harry Charters chronicles and short stories, and reviewing for Crimesquad.com.

Andrew Peters was born in the swamps of Glamorgan but has since hastened to Spain, where he spends his time gloating about the weather and penning tales of Otis King, Memphis’ number one Welsh Blues Detective, and some cuttingly funny short stories.

 

Zoë Sharp

Winter Blues by Zoë Sharp

Now the clocks have gone back, the first dusting of snow has fallen, and the rabid countdown to Christmas is in full swing, it feels like winter is officially well and truly Here.

I have mixed feelings about this. Part of me is extremely tempted to mutter, “Bah! Humbug!” under my breath a good deal of the time. But actually I find the winter months tend to be a really good time to write. There isn’t the temptation to venture out, and there’s something rather cosy about sitting creating stories in a little pool of light from a desk lamp, while the wind thrashes the sleet against the outside of the windows.

At least, I think, I’m not out working in that.

But people are supposed to be outside dwellers. A couple of hundred years ago, about three-quarters of us worked out in the open in one way or another. Today that’s fallen to roughly ten percent. During the summer this isn’t such a problem, but working odd hours in winter means we often leave home in the dark and arrive back in the same state, spending our working day under deathly artificial light in the meantime.

Which is why huge number of us suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder—the aptly named SAD—or the Winter Blues.

Writers, I think, tend to be more affected by mood than others. It’s no secret that levels of depression are higher among creative people, and Winter Blues can sometimes be the final straw, particularly if you’re not aware of what it is and the effects. I’d heard of it, but until I started reading up for this piece, I didn’t realise what it really meant.

Winter Blues usually affects those who live more than thirty degrees from the equator, where the daylight levels rise and fall more noticeably with the seasons. (I knew there was another good reason to move to warmer climes.)

Reduced daylight and sunshine affects our circadian rhythms—our bodyclock—which regulate appetite, digestion, energy, sleeping, waking and mood. Just about everything that allows us to function, then. Without the proper triggers to wake feeling energetic, and sleep at the right times, we become lethargic and grumpy.

Among the symptoms for Winter Blues:

• Lack of energy making you unable to stick to your normal routine.
• Sleep problems—restless at night and tired during the day.
• Lack of interest in physical contact.
• Anxiety and an inability to cope.
• Depression with no apparent cause.
• Social withdrawal and irritability.
• Craving for sweets and carbohydrates, leading to weight gain.

So, you’ve looked down the list and thought, “Yup, ticked all those boxes.” Now, what do you do about it?

There’s medication, of course, but some of the organisations set up to help sufferers suggest that the best way forward may be to try light treatment. (Of course, I say this entirely as a lay-person. If you think you’ve got it, seek expert medical advice.)

But, it’s known that lack of light increases our production of Melatonin, which is the hormone that makes us sleepy, and decreases our Serotonin production, which is what keeps us happy.

So, sitting, for periods of time that vary according to each individual, with a lightbox which produces more lumens than a standard incandescent bulb may do wonders. As may having an alarm clock that simulates a gradual dawn breaking with increasing light rather than an abrupt buzzer, or spending as much time as possible outside, negative air ionisation, and Vitamin D supplements. Taking more exercise is always noted as helpful for those with depression, although if you’re depressed and sluggish the last thing you may feel like doing is exercise.

Whatever way you decide is best for you to treat the Winter Blues, the important thing is that you recognise you may be one of the many people affected, and to do something about it.

Personally, hibernating until the spring seems like a really good idea …

This week’s Word of the Week is mislippen, a Scots and Northern English dialect word meaning to distrust, suspect, disappoint, overlook, neglect or deceive.

Zoë Sharp

Die Easy by Zoë Sharp

There’s no denying it’s taking a little longer to get the new Charlie Fox book out there than I envisaged. It’s literally days away from publication in most territories. But, just to thank everyone for being so patient―and in response to a certain number of both pleas and threats―here’s a sneak preview: the opening chapter, just to keep you going …

DIE EASY: Charlie Fox book ten

“Zoë Sharp is one of the sharpest, coolest, and most intriguing writers I know. She delivers dramatic, action-packed novels with characters we really care about. And once again, in DIE EASY, Zoë Sharp is at the top of her game.”—Harlan Coben

In the sweating heat of Louisiana, former Special Forces soldier turned bodyguard, Charlie Fox, faces her toughest challenge yet.

Professionally, she’s at the top of her game, but her personal life is in ruins. Her lover, bodyguard Sean Meyer, has woken from a gunshot-induced coma with his memory in tatters. It seems that piecing back together the relationship they shared is proving harder for him than relearning the intricacies of the close-protection business.

Working with Sean again was never going to be easy for Charlie, either, but a celebrity fundraising event in aid of still-ravaged areas of New Orleans should have been the ideal opportunity for them both to take things nice and slow.

Until, that is, they find themselves thrust into the middle of a war zone.

When an ambitious robbery explodes into a deadly hostage situation, the motive may be far more complex than simple greed. Somebody has a major score to settle and Sean is part of the reason. Only trouble is, he doesn’t remember why.

And when Charlie finds herself facing a nightmare from her own past, she realises she can’t rely on Sean to watch her back. This time, she’s got to fight it out on her own.

One thing’s for sure—no matter how overwhelming the odds stacked against her, Charlie Fox is never going to die easy …

 

Chapter One

Even on a good day I don’t enjoy being shot at. Been there, done that, and it bloody hurts.

I wasn’t kidding myself this was going to be a good day.

Maybe that had something to do with the fact that my gun hand—my right—was securely handcuffed to a reinforced briefcase weighing probably twenty-five pounds.

That in itself wouldn’t have been so bad. I’d put in enough time on the range to be proficient with either hand. My left wrist, however, was just as firmly handcuffed to Sean Meyer’s right. Neither of us was exactly overjoyed by this state of affairs.

Especially when everything was about to go to shit around us.

We were on a quiet street of generic storefronts, parked cars dotted along either side. There were people nearby but nobody gave us a second glance.

And then, just when the tension began to give me heartburn, a dozen rapid shots cracked out further down the street. I was half expecting them, but still they startled me. I forced out a strangled yelp, even though I knew they were scare shots, fired from a single weapon rather than part of an exchange, designed purely to start a stampede.

They got the job done.

Sean wheeled and I had to swing fast to stay with him. His eyes were everywhere. He’d already drawn the Glock 17 semiautomatic, hefted it in his left hand, but he stayed on his feet, upright, alert.

Next to him, useless as a stuffed lemon chained to that damn case, I felt helplessly exposed. I willed myself calm, knowing I had to rely on Sean to protect me—to protect both of us.

People started to stream past us. Some screaming, some shouting—unintelligible words filled with a contagious panic. I tugged deliberately at his arm.

“Sean! We need to get out of here—”

“Shut up.”

It was the vicious tone more than the words that shocked me into silence. As we turned, I caught a glimpse of figures crossing between the buildings. They were dressed in jeans and loose shirts like the rest of the crowd. Unlike everybody else, though, they moved with direction and purpose, and they were armed.

I didn’t speak, didn’t distract Sean, but by the way he tensed I knew he’d seen them, too.

His brows were drawn down flat in concentration, making his harsh face seem colder than usual. Cold enough to make me shiver.

He muscled me sideways effortlessly, snatching roughly at the cuffs so that it jarred my whole arm. I should have been protesting at this point, but I said nothing. It took willpower to remain passive.

Sean went down on one knee, pulled me into a crouch alongside him, using an old parked Chevy for cover. We stayed up by the front wheel where the engine block provided more of a shield.

More people sprinted by. A man tripped and went sprawling right behind us. Sean ignored him. He had the gun up in front of him, head tilted to best utilise his dominant eye.

A target broke cover, dodging through the remnants of the fleeing people. Sean fired on him without hesitation, four fast shots that somehow threaded through the crowd, tracked and hit. He went down.

Before the first man finished falling another had appeared, jinking between parked cars on the opposite side of the street. He had a machine pistol held at waist-level, and he strafed us as he ran. Sean held his nerve, his position and his aim, taking only two rounds to drop him.

The third and fourth assailants came in together from oblique angles, taking advantage of any tunnelling in Sean’s focus. Sean twisted, forgetting about my dead weight on the end of his right arm. He growled in frustration as his first shots went wide, taking an extra fraction of a second he barely had time for.

His breath hissed out as he swung his arm over the top of me and fired again, so close I felt the gases blast past my cheek, heard the brutal snap of the report clatter in my ears. The hot dead brass spun out and scattered around me. One casing hit the side of my neck, burning the skin. Instinct told me to stay on my feet. Instead I dropped flat, trying to get my hands over my head. Not easy with unwieldy objects attached to both arms.

Then I heard the Glock’s action lock back empty.

I hadn’t been counting the rounds, but I couldn’t believe Sean let the gun run dry in these circumstances.

I raised my head, my locked-together fingers hampering his reload. Sean hit the release to drop the magazine and shoved the Glock, butt upwards, into the vee at the back of his bent leg. He snatched the spare mag out of his belt and slapped it home with the palm of his hand, then pulled the gun free and flicked the slide release awkwardly to snap the first round up into the chamber.

The whole operation had taken maybe a couple of seconds, left-handed, smooth and without a slip, but he was staring at me as if I’d just tried to get him killed.

As if I wanted him dead …

“Come on—up!” he commanded, almost wrenching my arm out of its socket as he dragged me upright. The briefcase dangled painfully from the short cuff chain, gouging at my right wrist. I groped for the case’s handle, stumbling as we fell back into the mouth of an alley.

The expanding slap of a long gun rebounded between the brick buildings, and then they came at us thick and fast, half a dozen armed men, experienced pros, motivated, confident.

It was always going to be a no-win situation.

Sean went to the wall that allowed him to keep his left hand free, facing outwards, elbowing me round behind him. He fired at anything that showed itself past the edge of the scarred brickwork, dialled in now, emotions buttoned down tight.

And this time he dropped the magazine out before the last round was fired, keeping the Glock’s working parts in play. He shoved the gun into his belt to reach for a reload.

I stayed close up behind him—I had no other choice. But I had my face slightly turned towards the back of the alley, and for this reason I saw a door open halfway back, a man emerge with a gun in his right fist. He was tall, rangy, his arms already raised to firing position, and he was smiling.

I sucked in an audible breath. Sean heard it, head snapping round. For the merest fraction of a second he hesitated, then tried to hurry the magazine into the pistol grip and fumbled it.

The man’s smile became broader. He fired.

Not at Sean, but at me.

I felt the punch of the impact in my chest, high on the right, where he knew the round would drill diagonally through ribs, lungs and heart. Where he knew it would do the most harm.

Bastard.

I gasped but couldn’t get my breath, started to slide down the rough wall as my legs folded under me. Sean turned into my body as if to stop me falling. His face was an inch from mine. I stared into eyes dark as mourning and saw nothing reflected back at me.

That hurt worse than the shot.

His left hand was empty. It snaked under the tails of my shirt. I felt his fingers close around the .40 cal SIG Sauer P229 I wore just behind my right hip, pulling it free.

He knew I carried the gun ready, with a round jacked up into the chamber. There was no safety.

He fired as soon as the weapon cleared my torso, four rounds straight into the centre of the smiling man’s body mass.

As the guy went down I just had time to note that he wasn’t smiling any more.

‘To sum up DIE EASY, I would have to say that I have waited a year for a great book, only for a brilliant one to be delivered with all the style and panache you would expect from Sharp and Fox. An exceptional novel.’ Graham Smith, CrimeSquad.com five-star review

This week’s Words of the Week are the Latin phrases cui bono, meaning for whose advantage or benefit is it?; who is the gainer? And cui malo, whom will it harm?

Zoë Sharp