Showing posts with label author Jennifer Lee Thomson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label author Jennifer Lee Thomson. Show all posts

Tuesday 7 February 2023

How Kirsty Gets Her Kicks gets the review treatment over at the fantastic Mystery People

Kirsty Gets Her Kicks gets the review treatment over at the fantastic Mystery People. 

Here's what Dot Marshall-Gent had to say - 

‘How Kirsty Gets Her Kicks’ by Jennifer Lee Thomson

Published by Shotgun Honey,
13 June 2019.
ISBN: 978-1-6439-6005-0
 
(PB)

'Wow.  You took out one of McPhee’s boys with one bloody leg.  Awesome.'

Kirsty explodes onto the opening page of this outrageous thriller as a thug makes the mistake of getting too fresh with her. She’s not the sort of woman who takes kindly to such behaviour.  She is the sort of woman who deals out her own justice.  Kirsty may be a below-knee amputee, but whatever anger she feels about her disability, she channels into her overwhelming desire to succeed in a life that has dealt her some cruel blows.  Having stopped the would-be attacker in his tracks, she allows herself a moment of self-congratulation.  Then, as she considers her next move, Kirsty makes the unwelcome discovery that Jamie, another member of the bar staff, saw everything.  The annoying voyeur reveals that the guy she just flattened is an “enforcer” employed by their boss, Jimmy McPhee. 

McPhee is a career criminal who controls much of the illegal activity in this area of Glasgow.  He has friends in high places, including the local constabulary, and enough dirt on the city’s bigwigs to ensure that his nefarious endeavours are kept well below the law’s radar.  As if Jamie’s presence at the scene of her crime was not enough, it then turns out that the hapless-looking witness seems to want to join forces.  This is the first of many conundrums that our anti-heroine faces in the novel but, rest assured, she’s rarely out of ideas to deal with the most impossible of situations.

The pace of the narrative is fast and gets faster as Kirsty uses her quick mind and laudable resilience to face and overcome countless challenges that confront her as the story progresses.  Her true north may be slightly off when compared with that of the average citizen, but Kirsty’s backstory is harrowing, and she can be forgiven the odd offence.  Her proclivity to inflict grievous bodily harm is restricted to those who have done far, far worse.  Kirsty does have a softer side which, when it shows, elicits empathy.  The writing has humour too, but it’s never cosy.

How Kirsty Gets Her Kicks is a tongue-in-cheek thriller with an unbreakable and unstoppable hard-boiled protagonist taking a rip-roaring ride in a wild and wind-blown tide.  If you like tough and gritty this is for you.  Expect the unexpected in this adults-only novel and you’ll still be shocked.  Enjoy it, I did!
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Reviewer: Dot Marshall-Gent

Note - review is copyright (c) of Mystery People.


click on cover to find out more:)

What's it about then?

A tale of skullduggery that plays out on the mean streets of Glasgow…

One-legged barmaid Kirsty is in a shit-load of trouble after she kills one of gangster Jimmy McPhee’s enforcers with a stiletto heel to the head after he gets a bit too handsie.

Now she’s on the run from the gang boss who loves to torture his victims before he kills them, with a safe-load of cash she stole from him and a hot gun. And she has company—a choirboy barman Jamie who just happens to be the only witness.

She needs to survive long enough to spend the cash.

How difficult can it be to catch a “daft wee lassie with one leg?” Glasgow hardman Jimmy McPhee is about to find out. Kirsty’s made a laughing stock out of him and he doesn’t like that one wee bit.

Bring together a one-legged barmaid who’s legged it with a safe load of dirty cash, a spurned gangster’s wife who wants a walking womb for her mail order sperm, a giant birthday cake and a mad chase to the end, and you’ve got 
How Kirsty Gets Her Kicks: one freaking minute at a time.

Praise for HOW KIRSTY GETS HER KICKS:

“A high-kicking, double-barrelled, blast of grindhouse pulp.” —Paul D. Brazill, author of 
Last Year’s Man

How Kirsty Gets Her Kicks hits the ground running and does not let up for a single breathless second. I tore through this in one sitting, and it’s a hell of a ride filled with colourful characters and casual violence—everything I look for in crime fiction—not to mention a lead character that takes everything thrown at her and just keeps on coming. This is a great story, and Jennifer Lee Thomson is a great story-teller.” —Paul Heatley, author of FatboyGuillotine, and the Eye for an Eye series


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You can find out more about Mystery People here - 

www.mysterypeople.co.uk

www.promotingcrime.blogspot.co.uk

mysterypeople@outlook.com

Saturday 1 October 2022

Tuesday 18 August 2020

It's been fun... farewell to the Cannibal City book tour



This is the final day of the Cannibal City blog tour and it's been amazing. I'm so sad it has to end.

Thanks to everyone who has taken part. You've been amazing and I appreciate the time you spent reading and writing about Cannibal City.

In truth, I haven't been feeling too well recently mentally and at times I've struggled to get any writing done because of a complete loss of confidence. 

Having this blog tour has given me a boost, so thanks to everyone for getting involved. 

A special thanks to damppebbles.com for doing all the organising.

I'd like to thank today's two stops on the tour for having #CannibalCity and me on on their fantastic blogs.



Here's what @cheekypee27 had to say about Cannibal City -

This is book two in the series and I highly recommend you read book one Vile City first.

There is a serial killer on the loose and DI Waddell is on the case. This series is different in that Waddell gets help from his colleague Stevie- who’s in a coma.

I really liked this storyline. The twists and turns had me glued to my kindle. Can’t wait to read more from this author.



Meanwhile, @colingarrow was kind enough to feature me in his Author spotlight


Saturday 22 December 2018

WHAT WOULD YOU DO TO GET REVENGE? Hell To Pay (Nancy Kerr Book 1) is out NOW



An extract from Hell To Pay (Nancy Kerr book 1)


She took a few more steps into the living room and walked straight into hell…



Chapter 1


I’m cold, colder than I’ve ever been in my entire life and I don’t know why. Slowly, I open my eyes, tentatively at first because even opening them a fraction feels like someone's shoving red-hot pins into them. The light is so bright.


What’s with the light anyway?


Has Michael wandered in, blootered on some poncy new beer and left the light on, after collapsing in a heap onto the bed?  I’ll brain him if he has. I’m no good to anyone when I don’t get my eight hours.


Pulling myself up in bed, I reach out my arm to nudge him awake so I can give him a right mouthful. My hand finds empty space.


Where is he?


My eyes sting as I prise them open – it’s as though there's been an accident with false lashes and I've glued my eyelashes together - and that’s when I realise I’m not in our flat. The reason I’m freezing is because I’m wearing a tracing paper thin hospital gown: the kind that shows off your backside when you’re being whisked off to x-ray.


A tidal wave of panic hits me and I jerk into full consciousness.


What’s happened to me?


I try to remember, but my brain’s all bunged up as if the top of my head's been removed and the cavity filled with cotton wool.


My arms are bandaged up. Have I been in an accident?  If I have, I don’t remember. Maybe I hit my head.


I take in my surroundings. If I’m in hospital, it’s no ordinary one. For one thing, my room’s more like a cell. There’s a bed and a table bolted to the floor, but no personal stuff: photos, or cards, or stuffed animals from people wishing me well. Does anyone even know I’m here?


I grope for a call button to get a nurse, but there isn’t one. What the hell? This place is a prison.

Staggering out of bed, I fight the wave of nausea and dizziness that make me want to yell at the world to stop moving because I want to get off the carousel. The tile floor is stone cold and there are no slippers by the bed. My feet are ice blocks. Why don’t I have any socks or tights on? 


Before I reach the door, there's a jingle of keys, then a key scrapes in the lock. Holding my breath, I brace myself for what’s coming.


A woman I don’t recognize with brown hair tied back in a ponytail appears. She’s dressed in a nurse’s uniform and there’s a small smile playing on the edge of her lips.


"Good, you’re awake, Nancy."


She sounds pleased, as if we’re bosom buddies, when I’ve never seen her before in my life.


"Where am I?"


My voice comes out as a rasp as though my throat’s been sandpapered down.

The nurse puts a hand on my shoulder. "Let’s get you back into bed, Nancy."


I do as she says. I’m worried if I don’t lie back, I’ll faint.


"You’re in Parkview Hospital," she says, as she fixes the pillows so I can sit upright.


I know all the hospitals in Glasgow, but I haven’t heard of that one. I ask her what kind of hospital it is and she tells me it’s a psychiatric facility. The reason I haven’t heard of it, is because they don’t publicize it. Perhaps because it’s full of nutters they want to keep away from society. The prospect terrifies me because that would mean they must think I’m cuckoo. Why else would I be here? 


I suck in my breath. When I ask her if this is a nut house, she presses her lips tightly together as she tells me no one refers to psychiatric hospitals in that way any more. Suitably chastised, I mumble an apology not because I think one’s needed, but because she’s the one with the keys.

"Why am I here?"


I’m dreading the answer, but I need to know. I don’t feel any different. Surely if I’d lost my mind, I'd know.


"You had a breakdown."


The way she says it, she could be talking about the weather.


She asks me if I want anything and I tell her a pair of proper pyamas, a dressing gown and slippers would be nice because I’m an ice block. If she gets in touch with Mum, she’ll bring me in some stuff.


Her smile’s still there, but breaks down around the corners of her mouth. There’s something she’s not telling me, because she’s worried how I’ll react. There’s fear in her eyes. I notice she’s wearing a lucky heather brooch, the same one I got for Mum. I’m staring at it as she tells me she’s going to fetch a doctor, when a memory stirs inside me and no matter how hard I try to push it away, someone’s taken their finger out the dyke and the water’s rushing in.


Blood, blood everywhere. Dad’s slumped in his favourite armchair, head bent forward as if in prayer (he never prayed a day in his life); a single bullet hole in his head. 

I know it’s him, even although his face has been beaten to a pulp: his blood staining the fireside rug my mum was so fond of. 


Even in death, my dad has a presence. He fills a room with the sheer weight of his personality. 


Discarded nearby is the baseball bat they used on him. It’s covered in blood and something sticky and dark brown, resembling raw mince.


All material is copyright of the author Jenny Thomson (C) 2018



*****For a limited time Hell To Pay will be 0.99*****

You can buy it here 
   Oneclick   



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