Tuesday, 5 May 2015

Behind the Makeup by Jessica Stevens #guestpost @jpstevens79



So I snagged Jessica Stevens and asked her few questions about her upcoming release! 


Q: Can you tell me a little about your story?

Elizabeth Rhey is a world class singer who has come home to North West London to complete the final dates of her last tour. Then her way word brother gets in trouble with the police again, and she is about ready to wash her hands of him. Only he’s dead. She finds herself caught up in a police investigation, where her past secrets catch up with her.
Gareth Buchanan is Beth’s bodyguard. It wasn’t his chosen career, just one he landed on after taking a break from the police force. When Beth’s brother is killed and the investigation around his death unravels, he finds himself getting very close to Beth. With a desperate need to protect her, Gareth is forced to confront is own ghost.
Both their lives are turned upside down as they find out who is behind her brother’s death. Can they face their past to find peace for their future?

Q: If you had to choose to be any character in the book, either main or secondary, who would it be and why?

Actually it would be Gareth. He has this protective nature about him that just comes naturally. He is quick off the mark, but above all he is honourable and devastatingly handsome.

Q: Do you have a writing process?

Not really no. Inspiration will strike and I write. Sometimes I think it will go one way, but when I get to writing stuff down, it goes quite the opposite. I learnt early on to listen to the voices in my head (straight jackets not required just yet). That was the hardest thing, to trust my writing mind. If I fight it, the story doesn't work.

Q: If you could only have one flavour of icecream for the rest of your life, what would it be?

ooohhhh now this is tough. Strawberry cheese cake



Story Excerpt:

“Hold up, what’s that?” PC Paul Newman asked from the driver’s seat. His gaze brought Smith’s attention to fast-moving shadows up ahead. As they neared the house they were looking for, two white males dashed out in front of them and scrambled into a waiting red hatch back car. They were dressed in dark clothing and both had their arms full, carrying obscure objects, along with a sports bag. The car sped off up the road before the last person had the chance to close the back passenger door.

“I’ll call it in,” Smith said, reading his partner’s mind. “Control, this is Quebec Delta four nine two, we are in pursuit of what we believe to be the intruders of Belleview Road. The roads are dry and light with traffic. Do we have permission to proceed?”

“Quebec Delta four nine two, you have permission to proceed.”

Newman flicked on the siren and started to give chase to the getaway car.

“We are in pursuit of a red Vauxhall Corsa, registration Lima Echo 04 Foxtrot, Hotel Lima. Current speed forty-seven miles per hour in a forty speed zone.” Smith continued to give the control room details of which roads they were traveling down and the speeds both cars were driving at. It was important to give as much detail to the driving conditions of both vehicles, for both safety and accountability, should anything go wrong. Sadly, in his experience, it usually ended up with the failing to stop car causing an accident.

“He’s heading out onto the North Circular.” Newman stated, as he predicted where the car was going to head next. Duncan swallowed down the fear of his experience. The North Circular was a busy road. Though this time of night traffic would be light, it was still used as it is the main circular road to get from one side of London to the next. Some of the corners are tight, and travelling at excessive speeds… Smith tried not to think about it as they carried on driving at a safe distance down the Harrow Road toward Wembley. True to Newman’s prediction, the Corsa jumped through the red lights, and turned left down onto the North Circular toward the A40.

Visibility was much better due to the street lights that lit up the road ahead. Their driving speed was now in excess of eighty miles an hour at times, with hard breaking around some of the tight turns the road offered. The car in front swerved across two lanes and slammed on the breaks to avoid hitting another car. Smith pushed his feet down on the foot-well of the car and leaned back in his chair as if he was willing the car to stop. Fortunately it was a near miss. “This is going to end in tears,” Smith said out loud to Newman.

Newman backed off from the red car to put more stopping distance between them, hoping it would encourage them to reduce their speed, as the pressure to get away would be reduced. He drove behind the Corsa in the left hand lane, anticipating them to exit, but the red car suddenly sped up and drifted across the lanes to the right side.

“The A40 is up next.” Newman stated his prediction once again so that PC Smith could relate back to control. They could see the traffic lights ahead that indicated the crossroads of the North Circular and the A40. They were red. Both officers looked at each other as Newman instinctively slowed his car. The red Corsa carried on at high speed with no intention of stopping for the red lights. There were a few cars drifting past, but not few enough. The sounds of horns and tires screeching were enough to chill any warm-blooded animal. Both Smith and Newman had no option but to watch and report back to control, as the red car floored it through the red lights. Cars traveling from the left swerved to avoid the Corsa. Amazingly, the red car made it through the junction without getting hit. None of the other cars had collided with each other. But it wasn’t over. Newman increased his speed to follow the red car once more as he meandered his way through the now stationary cars on the junction.

“He’s lost it,” Newman said as they watched the red car veer left and right as the driver fought to control the car. The driver pulled the car off to the left much too quickly, causing the Corsa to skid sideways across three lanes of traffic, up onto the bank and wrap itself around a tree.

“Control, we have an RTC on North Circular Road Southbound just after A40 junction,” Smith said as he spoke into his radio. He hopped out of the car just before Newman had brought it to a complete stop.

Newman pulled the hand break up with such force, you could hear the gear mechanism grind together and then jumped out of the car to follow Smith.

Smith reached the back of the red car and could hear soft moans from the back passenger side. As he opened the door, a young man was slouched across the back seat, his head was oozing a crimson river and he wasn’t conscious. Smith felt for a pulse, it was faint. Newman was busy assessing the front passenger so he made his way to the driver.

The front of the red Corsa was crumpled, steam from what he presumed to be the radiator rose into the night sky. Smoke from the air bags joined the steam as they danced their vapour in the street light rays. The driver hung half out of the windscreen, his head at an awkward angle. Smith reached for a pulse, already knowing there wouldn’t be one.

“Control, this is Quebec Delta four nine two. We have one unconscious male with a head injury,” He looked over to Newman for the condition of the front passenger. Newman just shook his head. “And two fatalities.


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