Tag Archives: Thriller

The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins #review




Title : The Girl on the Train
Author: Paula Hawkins
Published: 2015
Pages:: 316
Format:: Print


Rachel catches the same commuter train every morning. She knows it will wait at the same signal each time, overlooking a row of back gardens. She’s even started to feel like she knows the people who live in one of the houses. ‘Jess and Jason’, she calls them. Their life – as she sees it – is perfect. If only Rachel could be that happy.


And then she sees something shocking. It’s only a minute until the train moves on, but it’s enough.

Now everything’s changed. Now Rachel has a chance to become a part of the lives she’s only watched from afar.

Now they’ll see; she’s much more than just the girl on the train…

Girl on the Train is a good read. It is not however Gone Girl as the marketing people who clearly haven’t read the book attempt to imply it is. Apparently this is how books are now marketed by suggesting similarities with best sellers, because every reader wants to do nothing but read varying replicas of their favourite book. The only similarity is that both are thrillers and people go missing and people die in both books. Nothing more. Which for that matter could be compared to the storyline of many thrillers.

I enjoyed this book and while not perfect it was an entertaining and fast read. The protagonist who clearly has issues often did things not exactly winning the reader over. She is like the person in Adele’s song Hello. Could you please just move on already. Hitting a slump is one thing but this woman after a breakup just hits rock bottom. To keep herself going she sits on the train every day and stares at the lives of others imagining what she will to pass the time. One such couple that has caught her attention warrants a closer look after a moment seen from the train and this begins Rachel immersing herself into the lives she has been watching from the train. Obsession, depression, lies and deceit are all covered within The Girl on the Train. A good entertaining thriller.


The Kind Worth Killing by @PeterSwanson3 #review

Peter Swanson


Title : The Kind Worth Killing
AuthorPeter Swanson
Published: 2015
Pages:: 320
Format:: Ebook


A devious tale of psychological suspense involving sex, deception, and an accidental encounter that leads to murder. This is a modern re-imagining of Patricia Highsmith’s classic Strangers on a Train from the author of the acclaimed The Girl with a Clock for a Heart.

On a night flight from London to Boston, Ted Severson meets the mysterious Lily Kintner. Sharing one too many martinis, the strangers begin to play a game of truth, revealing intimate details about themselves. Ted talks about his marriage and his wife Miranda, who he’s sure is cheating on him. But their game turns dark when Ted jokes that he could kill Miranda for what she’s done. Lily, without missing a beat, says calmly, “I’d like to help.”

From there, Ted and Lily’s twisted bond grows stronger as they plot Miranda’s demise, but soon these co-conspirators are embroiled in a game of cat-and-mouse–one they both cannot survive–with a shrewd and very determined detective on their tail.

I’d read The Girl With A Clock For A Heart by Peter Swanson as I thought it sounded amazing. I was disappointed by that one as I didn’t feel like it quite worked. When the chance to read The Kind Worth Killing came along I was hesitant as I was concerned about being in the same predicament. Sounds great but will I actually enjoy it. I’m glad I gave Peter Swanson another go as The Kind Worth Killing was the tight intriguing phycological thriller that I’d hoped his first one would be.

The story told from alternating perspectives pulls the reader in and makes one look at murder through the eyes of people who well don’t have quite an issue with it as the average Joe may. Everyone dies after all. With numerous plot twists the story could have fallen apart but it continued to be gripping and a highly enjoyable read. Great and diverse characters with a story that had me wanting more. I do recommend this one if you haven’t yet read Peter Swanson. Its the one to go with for sure.

Thank you to HarperCollins for the review copy.

Tropical Depression by author Jeff Lindsay Blast @dexterjeff

I’m a massive Jeff Lindsay fan. Before the TV show I saw a book about a serial killer who kills serial killer and I was hooked then and there. I’m so pleased to be able to share about another Jeff Lindsay book Tropical Depression. Check it out and the other blogs taking part in the blast.

Tropical Depression

by Jeff Lindsay

August 25 Book Blast




NEW YORK TIMES bestselling author Jeff Lindsay mastered suspense with his wildly addictive DEXTER series. Before that, however, there was former cop and current burnout Billy Knight. When a hostage situation turns deadly, Billy loses everything—his wife, his daughter, and his career. Devastated, he heads to Key West to put down his gun and pick up a rod and reel as a fishing boat captain. But former co-worker Roscoe McAuley isn’t ready to let Billy rest.

When Roscoe tells Billy that someone murdered his son, Billy sends him away. When Roscoe himself turns up dead a few weeks later, however, Billy can’t keep from getting sucked back into Los Angeles, and the streets that took so much from him.

Billy’s investigations into the death of a former cop, and his son, will take him up to the highest echelons of the LAPD, finding corruption at every level. It puts him on a collision course with the law, with his past, with his former fellow officers, and with the dark aftermath of the Civil Rights Movement. Jeff Lindsay’s considerable storytelling gifts are on full display, drawing the reader in with a mesmerizing style and a case with more dangerous blind curves than Mulholland Drive.


Book Details:

Genre: Thriller, Suspense, Police Procedural

Published by: Diversion Books

Publication Date: August 25, 2015 (Re-Release)

Number of Pages: 256

ISBN: 2940151536677

Series: Billy Knight Thrillers, Book 1

Purchase Links: Amazon Barnes & Noble Goodreads


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Read an excerpt:

Somebody once said Los Angeles isn’t really a city but a hundred suburbs looking for a city. Every suburb has a different flavor to it, and every Angeleno thinks he knows all about you when he knows which one you live in. But that’s mostly important because of the freeways.

Life in L.A. is centered on the freeway system. Which freeway you live nearest is crucial to your whole life. It determines where you can work, eat, shop, what dentist you go to, and who you can be seen with.

I needed a freeway that could take me between the two murder sites, get me downtown fast, or up to the Hollywood substation to see Ed Beasley.

I’d been thinking about the Hollywood Freeway. It went everywhere I needed to go, and it was centrally located, which meant it connected to a lot of other freeways. Besides, I knew a hotel just a block off the freeway that was cheap and within walking distance of the World News, where Roscoe had been cut down. I wanted to look at the spot where it happened. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t learn anything, but it was a starting place.

And sometimes just looking at the place where a murder happened can give you ideas about it; cops are probably a little more levelheaded than average, but most of them will agree there’s something around a murder scene that, if they weren’t cops, they would call vibes.

So Hollywood it was. I flagged down one of the vans that take you to the rental car offices.

By the time I got fitted out with a brand new matchbox—no, thank you, I did not want a special this-week-only deal on a Cadillac convertible; that’s right, cash, I didn’t like credit cards; no, thank you, I did not want an upgrade of any kind for only a few dollars more; no, thank you, I didn’t want the extra insurance—it was dark and I was tired. I drove north on the San Diego Freeway slowly, slowly enough to have at least one maniac per mile yell obscenities at me. Imagine the nerve of me, going only sixty in a fifty-five zone.

The traffic was light. Pretty soon I made my turn east on the Santa Monica. I was getting used to being in L.A. again, getting back into the rhythm of the freeways. I felt a twinge of dread as I passed the exit for Sepulveda Boulevard, but I left it behind with the lights of Westwood.

The city always looks like quiet countryside from the Santa Monica Freeway. Once you are beyond Santa Monica and Westwood, you hit a stretch that is isolated from the areas it passes through. You could be driving through inner-city neighborhoods or country-club suburbs, but you’ll never know from the freeway.

That all changes as you approach downtown. Suddenly there is a skyline of tall buildings, and if you time it just right, there are two moons in the sky. The second one is only a round and brightly lit corporate logo on a skyscraper, but if it’s your first time through you can pass some anxious moments before you figure that out. After all, if any city in the world had two moons, wouldn’t it be L.A.?

And suddenly you are in one of the greatest driving nightmares of all recorded history. As you arc down a slow curve through the buildings and join the Harbor Freeway you are flung into the legendary Four-Level. The name is misleading, a slight understatement. It really seems like a lot more than four levels.

The closest thing to driving the Four-Level is flying a balloon through a vicious dogfight with the Red Baron’s Flying Circus. The bad guys—and they are all bad guys in the Four-Level—the bad guys come at you from all possible angles, always at speeds just slightly faster than the traffic is moving, and if you do not have every move planned out hours in advance you’ll be stuck in the wrong lane looking for a sign you’ve already missed and before you know it you will find yourself in Altadena, wondering what happened.

I got over into the right lane in plenty of time and made the swoop under several hundred tons of concrete overpass, and I was on the Hollywood Freeway. Traffic started to pick up after two or three exits, and in ten minutes I was coming off the Gower Street ramp and onto Franklin.

There’s a large hotel right there on Franklin at Gower. I’ve never figured out how they break even. They’re always at least two-thirds empty. They don’t even ask if you have a reservation. They are so stunned that you’ve found their hotel they are even polite for the first few days. There’s also a really lousy coffee shop right on the premises, which is convenient if you keep a cop’s schedule. I guessed I was probably going to do that this trip.

A young Chinese guy named Allan showed me up to my room. It was on the fifth floor and looked down into the city, onto Hollywood Boulevard just two blocks away. I left the curtain open. The room was a little bit bigger than a gas station rest room, but the decor wasn’t quite as nice.

It was way past my bedtime back home, but I couldn’t sleep. I left my bag untouched on top of the bed and went out.

The neighborhood at Franklin and Gower is schizophrenic. Two blocks up the hill, towards the famous Hollywood sign, the real estate gets pretty close to seven figures. Two blocks down the hill and it’s overpriced at three.

I walked straight down Gower, past a big brick church, and turned west. I waved hello to Manny, Moe, and Jack on the corner: it had been a while. There was still a crowd moving along the street. Most of them were dressed like they were auditioning for the role of something your mother warned you against.

Some people have this picture of Hollywood Boulevard. They think it’s glamorous. They think if they can just get off the pig farm and leave Iowa for the big city, all they have to do is get to Hollywood Boulevard and magic will happen. They’ll be discovered.

The funny thing is, they’re right. The guys that do the discovering are almost always waiting in the Greyhound station. If you’re young and alone, they’ll discover you. The magic they make happen might not be what you had in mind, but you won’t care about that for more than a week. After that you’ll be so eager to please you’ll gladly do things you’d never even had a name for until you got discovered. And a few years later when you die of disease or overdose or failure to please the magic-makers, your own mother won’t recognize you. And that’s the real magic of Hollywood. They take innocence and turn it into money and broken lives.

I stopped for a hot dog, hoping my sour mood would pass. It didn’t. I got mustard on my shirt. I watched a transvestite hooker working on a young Marine. The jarhead was drunk enough not to know better. He couldn’t believe his luck. I guess the hooker felt the same way.

The hot dog started to taste like old regrets. I threw the remaining half into the trash and walked the last two blocks to Cahuenga.

The World News is open twenty-four hours a day, and there’s always a handful of people browsing. In a town like this there’s a lot of people who can’t sleep. I don’t figure it’s their conscience bothering them.

I stood on the sidewalk in front of the place. There were racks of specialty magazines for people interested in unlikely things. There were several rows of out-of-town newspapers. Down at the far end of the newsstand was an alley. Maybe three steps this side of it there was a faint rusty brown stain spread across the sidewalk and over the curb into the gutter. I stepped over it and walked into the alley.

The alley was dark, but that was no surprise. The only surprise was that I started to feel the old cop adrenaline starting up again, just walking down a dark alley late at night. Suddenly I really wanted this guy. I wanted to find whoever had killed Roscoe and put him in a small cell with a couple of very friendly body-builders.

The night air started to feel charged. It felt good to be doing cop work again, and that made me a little mad, but I nosed around for a minute anyway. I wasn’t expecting to find anything, and I didn’t. By getting down on one knee and squinting I did find the spot where the rusty stains started. There was a large splat, and then a trickle leading back out of the alley to the stain on the sidewalk.

I followed the trickle back to the big stain and stood over it, looking down.

Blood is hard to wash out. But sooner or later the rain, the sun, and the passing feet wear away the stains. This stain was just about all that was left of Roscoe McAuley and when it was gone there would be nothing left of him at all except a piece of rock with his name on it and a couple of loose memories. What he was, what he did, what he thought and cared about—that was already gone. All that was hosed away a lot easier than blood stains—a lot quicker, too.

“I’m sorry, Roscoe,” I said to the stain. It didn’t answer. I walked back up the hill and climbed into a bed that was too soft and smelled of mothballs and cigarettes.



Author Bio:

authorJeff Lindsay is the award-winning author of the seven New York Times bestselling Dexter novels upon which the international hit TV show Dexter is based. His books appear in more than 30 languages and have sold millions of copies around the world. Jeff is a graduate of Middlebury College, Celebration Mime Clown School, and has a double MFA from Carnegie Mellon. Although a full-time writer now, he has worked as an actor, comic, director, MC, DJ, singer, songwriter, composer, musician, story analyst, script doctor, and screenwriter.

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Hindsight by Melanie Casey #review

I was pleased to receive this book as I was lucky and won the second book in the series. I prefer to start with book one, unlike my mother who will read a book no matter where in the series it is 🙂

Hindsight Melanie Casey


Cass Lehman has a terrifying ‘gift’…The youngest in a family of extraordinary women with supernatural talents, Cass is cursed with the not-so-sexy gift of seeing the past…but not just any past; she sees death. For years she’s hidden herself away in her family home. Now, desperate for a better life, she ventures into sleepy Jewel Bay, only to stumble upon murder and mayhem and a killer at large who’s long been lurking in their midst. Taking a chance, Cass volunteers to assist Detective Ed Dyson with the investigation. Will Cass be able to save the latest victim – and herself?



Book one starts with Cass who lives quite the reclusive lifestyle due to psychic ability that allows her the ability to experience a dead if she stands where the person died. Not exactly palm reading or staring into a crystal ball pleasant. As such she and her psychic family trio keep to themselves. When she comes to the point that its time to get out there and live life she volunteers to assist the police with their investigation of a woman who has died under mysterious circumstances.

I will say that I quite liked the book and the writing style. Though a formula plot it all works and works well. If one enjoys mysteries, thrillers, crime drama, psychics etc. you’ll enjoy this book and an entertaining read it will be. It has a very wide audience appeal. Great one to take on a plane trip or road trip as the time will fly by, the one issue I have if you can call it that, more an observation really is the fact that its formula, that’s not to say its not enjoyable it certainly is but nothing is unique in that I haven’t read a ton of stories like this prior. The misunderstood loner, the cop who’s had it rough, his tough female partner, their protective but decent boss, the crazy nut job you’ll not know about till the end are all characters who we’re all familiar with in some combination or another.

With an easy to read style Melanie has hit on something that works and as mentioned has a very wide audience appeal. I enjoyed it and while very familiar in so many ways I’ll be reading her second book Craven to see more of where Cass and Ed’s story goes.

It’s a great read and if you want a consistent and familiar story that is sure to entertain Hindsight is the way to go.

Written by Melanie Casey and published by Pantera Press

I received this book from Samara Magazine in exchange for an honest review.

The Girl With a Clock for a Heart by Peter Swanson #review

Peter Swanson



George Foss never thought he’d see her again, but on a late-August night in Boston, there she is, in his local bar, Jack’s Tavern. 

When George first met her, she was an eighteen-year-old college freshman from Sweetgum, Florida. She and George became inseparable in their first fall semester, so George was devastated when he got the news that she had committed suicide over Christmas break. But, as he stood in the living room of the girl’s grieving parents, he realized the girl in the photo on their mantelpiece – the one who had committed suicide – was not his girlfriend. Later, he discovered the true identity of the girl he had loved – and of the things she may have done to escape her past.

Now, twenty years later, she’s back, and she’s telling George that he’s the only one who can help her…


I found the premise of The Girl With a Clock For a Heart to be fascinating. I can’t say reading it had me mesmerised however. While not bad and a book I would recommend to mystery and thriller fans it was a book that felt more of a let down for me personally.

This book I think revolves around at its depths more so than mystery George’s infatuation for a woman he met many years ago who shows up out of the blue to ask for his help. I think this is where my disappointment comes from, I am not a romantic person I readily admit that, love at first sight is infatuation at best. George however will do anything for a woman who has all but a big giant red flashing neon warning sign around her.

Are people really that naive? Probably so but it didn’t feel true to me. The story told alternately in the present and past recollection by George from their earlier time together 20 years prior was well written. I think the author has great skill at storytelling, the story itself however did not capture me the way I thought it would and it sat half read for quite some time before I returned to it.

The mystery sort of works if you don’t look too close and don’t sit there wanting to bash George over the head with the book. While uneven the pace and writing was great and it was an easy to read story that unfolded in a pleasing way. The substance of the story itself felt inadequate not to mention the characters not quite as smart as you’d have hoped but people are people and make mistakes this there is no doubt in that so perhaps the fault is mine for being far too cynical.


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