#crimewriting

[ariellemorisot]

bit.ly/themercyhour

My character-driven crime romance trilogy is now available on Kindle, in paperback, and on audiobook! Deep love, great sex, and way too much murder dog the heels of a brilliant, disabled podcaster, a lovestruck, alcoholic criminalist, and a delightful, tragically heterosexual journalist as they attempt to solve cold cases and locate warm bodies in and around Washington DC.

[citylighten]

Me & @crimewriter: What if Pietro's son and Ángel's daughter had a off and on relationship for years, but then she slept with him on the night before her wedding and got pregnant with his baby? 😳

[bluesstorycorner]

NEW BRAND LOGO LET’S GOOOO. I really wanted to get some sort of official text/logo that I can use on my socials and also as a watermark on my art possibly, so I commissioned the same guy who designed my book cover title text and I am BEYOND happy with it. He does such an amazing job every time omg 😭🫶

[sweetestdiary]

15. trembling hands / for rosie (and pietro 👀)

There were numerous cities Rosaria would have loved to visit, so many that if she was absolutely certain she had to means to get up and roam wherever her heart desired, she would have a long list of destinations.

On this metaphorical list, some of these regions would have included Los Angeles, Gatlinburg, Tennessee…she actually knew very little of Gatlinburg beyond it having a Germanic influence, but still. The occasional commercials that popped up on television made Rosaria inclined to think the area looked cute! Even São Paulo was on her imaginary list out of intrigue for her father’s vague roots.

So many places would have been higher on her list than Las Vegas, where she was with Mr. Impellizzeri. This trip was not for pleasure though, it was, in all honesty, for work.

Raphael had finally given consideration to Pietro’s words about having a broader influence, so he sought to have a hand in a casino one of his long-time associates was building. But Raphael was not leaving his home, no, it was Pietro who had to pack his bags. Even a consigliere ‘in training’ like Rosaria was required to come. Both the men said that this event would teach her about the language of business. 

Business, business, business…

For days, this large trip loomed over her mind dreadfully. Rosaria did not once think of glitz and glamor nor of frivolous spending. Her thoughts revolved around suits, ties, and men with dark, slicked-back hair who engaged in tense, tricky, dialogue-heavy scenes straight from The Godfather.

But when she was on the strip? It was as though something magical happened. Anxiety zapped away, and the young woman’s thoughts shifted drastically as she found herself living a moment straight out of a film. With each way she turned her head, enormous casinos towered over her - MGM Grand, Caesars Palace, the Mandalay - all of them shiny, noisy, and enticing. 

She likened the insides of the casinos to be like a Chuck E. Cheese for adults as her ears were filled with the sounds of zings, pings and loud rhythmic sounds that identified someone had gotten lucky. There was a curiosity, an interest to look around and observe the machines, but she would not be like her father who would she recalled spending down to the last penny on scratch-off tickets. Pietro, however, had little plans to be financially chaste here.

 “Play hard before you work hard,” he eventually told her, forcing his chips into her manicured hands. Admittedly, Rosaria was not thrilled with her boss essentially pushing her away but she obeyed rather than put up a Scozzari-level fuss. When sulking off, she supposed she was too much like a fly, buzzing around him on the floor. And maybe even at the blackjack table, she looked a little too bitter and impatient for the game to end when he strived to focus. 

Filled with petty, low-level angst Rosaria roamed the slot machines full of disdain. She sat at one, another, a few more that would lead her to that fifth, fated slot machine. She didn’t think of winning, she wasn’t full of anxious anticipation for three matching strawberries to appear on screen. Instead, she was thinking of how judging by the machine’s art, it was manufactured in either the 80s or early 90s. The cartoony fruit spun and spun, while Rosaria was mentally making the decision of where to venture to next when sounds of success flooded her senses.  

In the most cinematic moment of all, Rosaria won money. $1,600, all hers.

Caught up in a sudden rush of exhilaration, she wasn’t sure how Pietro knew how to find her in the vast casino but he did. Rosaria didn’t bother questioning where her boss came from, or even how much money he made at the tables, she was far too focused on processing the thrill of her win. Looking over her shoulder, she only said one thing:

“Look what I did!”

“I see what you did!”  

Needless to say, unlike Pietro was interested in staying at the casino for a few more hours, Rosaria insisted they leave before they ruin their luck. But like Pietro, she wasn’t financially chaste. She had the idea that perhaps clothing stores on the west coast were more refined, more on the cutting edge than the average shops in the Midwest.

It was all so fun, so perfect. Then, the sun set.

Sometime between stepping into the shower and drying off her legs, Rosaria’s thoughts took a shift. Alone in the hotel room’s pristine, marble bathroom Rosaria looked at herself. In her reflection, she did not see ugliness, but rather, too much youth. 

Suddenly grappling with feelings of insecurity and inadequacy, Rosaria questioned the city’s seedy underbelly just as she questioned herself. She didn’t belong here. She may have been twenty-eight, but she felt too young to witness a business meeting where the men would likely be in their upper thirties, late forties...she wondered, would there be men in the meeting room observing her the way a crouching lion observed an oblivious zebra who grazed in the grass? Would they wonder why she was here? 

By just being in the same room as them she reflected the intelligence sense of  Mr. Impellizzeri and especially Mr. Polombo. Did she have professional attire to make the best impression or were her clothes just sexy? 

Would she die? Die from a meeting gone array where bullets would make holes in plastered walls and riddle the bodies of her and her superior?

A day of bliss became a night of terror and even after she was clad in her silk pajamas, Rosaria swore if she stayed in her room with her thoughts she would combust. 

“Mr. Impellizzeri?” Her fists rattled at the bedroom door on his side of the hotel. “Are you awake?”

–

“So, how old were you when this happened?”

“...”

“Mr. Impellizzeri?”

For a second time, Pietro had come back to reality. “I’m sorry Rosa, what did you say?”

“I was asking how old were you when you began overseeing meetings? And also, how old were you when you began doing business and -” a brief pause as Rosaria fought to properly define a specific role - ultimately, she couldn’t think of any. “-other things like that!”

There was no way Pietro could speak to Rosaria and simultaneously watch Bugsy. Something Pietro found about Rosaria Scozzari, after working nine months with her, is that when she talked she wanted to be seen just as much as she wanted to be heard. 

So, for Pietro to do something like shift his gaze to the wide-screen after giving a few, generally (and generically) supportive remarks, Rosaria was sure to do something like pace around or make direct eye contact with him or perhaps even ask a brazen question that was sure to get attention. 

Then there were her eyes - she would always set those big orbs on him when she spoke like this, slightly stretching them out more than usual. Pietro thinks this was a deliberate tactic on Rosaria’s behalf: trying to fight and brush off an intense gaze like that was difficult.

He pulls his arms behind his head, genuinely weighing the question. “I could have been nineteen or eighteen. But I’ve always done a bit of everything when it comes to ‘work.’ I was never a stranger to nearly all sides of the business.” 

She was still looking at him with those eyes…shoulders hitched high, and no smile to be seen, she needed more reassurance.

“You shouldn’t worry your pretty head about tomorrow. You’ll never get your hands dirty, you’ll always be working with words.”

“That’s one of the things I’m scared about too!” She’s quick to say, explanatory hands lifted; “Because sometimes, when I’m nervous, I feel like I forget what words are and I have this fear that maybe one day, in the middle of the conversation, I’ll forget what I’m talking about-” 

“Then you don’t rush through the conversation.” Rosaria did not have the time to talk about her anxieties or her ideas of letting Pietro down as he intervened with this. “Talk slow. Live in the present. When you can be grounded in the present, your words?” crossing his ankles as reclines on the bed, he lifts his right hand: creating a symbol of perfection. “You’re going to be a damn good consigliere. Probably better than Aldo…” Briefly, Pietro’s eyes roll to the ceiling: “may he rest in peace.” 

Bite by bite, Siegel shoved his dinner into his mouth. In this moment, if gluttony was Siegel’s sin, then lust was Virginia’s. Her desire for him was powerful, unrestrained. As the gangster ate, the woman showered him with passionate, kisses - the sight on screen would usually cause Pietro to raise the corner of his lips and slightly chuckle at one of the more unusual cinematic preludes to sex, but in this instance, the moment did nothing for him. He found his mind focused on Rosaria.

The mattress he laid on was big enough for three adult bodies, but there she sat in her satin pajamas in the room’s sole chair. Close enough to him while still being far off from him - Pietro supposes she liked to have the convenience of quickly sprinting off. 

 In a moment of undeniable vanity, Pietro thought of how other women would find a reason to sit on the mattress with him or, if they were feeling particularly flirty, they’d lay against him feigning innocence. He didn’t understand why Rosaria wouldn’t do the same thing. It’s not as though she had innocent feelings for him. No, she made her attraction clear when they first kissed in his office earlier this year. That’s when she pulled him in by his tie to press her lips against his own, and yes, although Pietro deepened the kiss, he swore he didn’t lay a finger on her until he heard her moan in his mouth. Otherwise, that moment was all her. 

Beyond that, in this present time, Pietro thought they had a good day together. Without anyone they knew observing them on the strip, there were plenty of instances where he wrapped an arm around her, displaying mild physical affection. And, didn’t Rosaria remember how he proudly wrapped his arms around her when she hit her jackpot at the slot machines? She should have known that he was fond of her.

Maybe she felt shame... 

“Mr. Impellizzeri?”

“Yes?”

“Did you ever have second thoughts about what you do for a living? Did you ever think of a more normal life? Even if it was just once?”

Promptly, De Niro came to mind. “What’s a normal life?” Pietro responds, “Barbeques and ballgames?”

Immediately, Rosaria wore a look of puzzlement on her face and, knowing her as well as he did, Pietro knew she was trying to decide how to form her response in defining what a ‘normal’ life was. But more than that, it occurred to Pietro that one of the coolest quotes he heard as a teen truly proved there was a generational gap between him and Rosaria. “That’s a line from Heat, babe.” He calmly (and swiftly) explains before she went on a spiel.

“Oh,” Rosaria’s cheeks grew warm and for a moment, she was too ashamed of her cinematic ignorance to make eye contact with Pietro. “I’ve never seen that,” but more than anything she was grateful she didn’t speak unrestrained. Surely, he would find her so ridiculous. 

“I’m not sure if Ralphy ever gave you a thorough talk about me, but I come from a poor family, Rosa. Dirt poor. When I came to America, I couldn’t even speak English.”

Rosaria had to blink, his American accent was so good. She would have assumed he at least came to America as an infant. 

“I have cousins in Chicago, but they weren’t successful. They were laborers…the sort of people who live above their shop to save money, if I didn’t run around as a courier for wise guys I wouldn’t have broken the cycle of poverty. I would be struggling to support a wife and a few kids at some low-end job.”

“That’s not true, sir, if you had gotten your educa-”

“I didn’t have the money for college. And I doubt my old man would have been interested in sending me there.”

It didn’t matter that Pietro said this matter-of-factly, the words stung so much Rosaria felt she may as well have endured a scolding. “I can understand that,” she forces herself to agree, “I’m the first college graduate in my family but…” should she drop the topic? Should she say never mind? She isn’t afraid of speaking, but what she is afraid of Pietro possibly becoming agitated by her. 

“But?” He rose an eyebrow, interested in where the conversation was leading. Rosaria forcibly swallowed her insecurity. 

“...don’t you ever feel…” she struggles with the right word, gesturing as she strives for something soft, something that’s not villainous; “morally compromised?”

“No.” Said without a second of thought and packaged with the hint of a confident smile. 

“Why?” “Because for me, this life is not about drivebys and drugs. It’s about knowing when it’s time to build, when it’s time to watch, and when it’s time to act. I care more about dying with a legacy attached to my actions than I care about dying surrounded by drugs or beautiful women. You know the city behind you was built by gangsters, don’t you?” “I knew Bugsy Siegel had the idea, but I thought there were other forces involved in the making.” Rosaria forces herself to speak briefly, this isn’t a topic she’s well-versed in and she seeks to avoid feeling embarrassed.

“The mob laid the entire foundation for it. Casinos, theatres. You’re not wrong that other people came along: they made it family-friendly but without Benny Siegel’s brilliance? This would be just another Los Angeles in a different reality, or maybe it’d be as renowned as Montana. All and all, it’d be nothing unique.” “Oh…” Rosaria’s legs tighten. That’s all she could bring herself to say, oh. The history lesson did intrigue her, but she found herself more intrigued with the way Pietro lay before her on the hotel bed. The man was just so relaxed, even in the way he relayed this information to her in his smoky voice. There was also a shimmer of something in his eye that she could not identify, and frankly, she was far too intimidated to stare him back in the eyes and attempt to analyze what it was. Not when she felt excitement growing at her core. 

“I’m not saying every gangster is an entrepreneur in the making, but there are some men in this life who have dreams of luxury and others who have real dreams. This life is just a means to an end to get what they need.”

“I don’t think you ever told me about your dreams…”

“Rosa, there’s so many ideas I have running through my head, I wouldn’t know where to start telling you.” A light chuckle, “we’d be here all night long.” 

“But I like listening to you talk!” She also loved it when he called her Rosa. Granted, this was a name her father called her, but the two men approached it differently. When Pietro called her Rosa, it was alluring. The natural roll of his tongue, the consistent trace of fondness. And in a funny way, the name Rosa made her feel like a different woman than, “Rosie,” - as Ben called her and especially a baby name like, “Roro,” as Sonia would call her. A raised eyebrow leads to Rosaria tucking a stray hair behind her hair, “you like listening to me talk?” “I could listen to you talk forever.” Rosaria would have admitted if she knew there would be absolutely no consequences. “I do, there’s so much I can learn from you!”

Pietro smiled. Naturally, he chose the best hotel for him and Rosaria to stay at. Nothing modest, he went for a two-bedroom luxury suite. Color scheme and accommodations aside, Pietro’s favorite aspect of this suite was the wide window that overlooked the strip. What could he say? He was a sucker for a nice skyline that lit up at night. And Bugsy be damned, Rosaria ultimately enhanced this view. As she sat still, planted in her seat, this was a moment Pietro realized something: Rosaria was incredibly attractive. 

Now, this was something he had previously recognized nine months prior when she popped up outside his office. She was what he would deem cute, easy on the eyes, and definitely eccentric, but he didn’t really study her.

Her eyes were stunning. They were round, wide, and warm. When he was shot by Mendel - left on the icy parking lot in pain (because a bullet to the shoulder certainly wasn’t an effective way to kill him), Pietro recalls Rosaria hastily speeding to him with so much fear and concern. Then, in the hospital, she still held that concerned look. She didn’t respect him because he was her superior in this specific point in time, she cared for him as a human being. Even now in these eyes, Pietro was prone to see many emotions from her. He would pin point them as wonder, affection, and desire. 

Another thing Pietro was taken by was how glorious Rosaria’s hair was. She looked stunning when she wore it in waves or curls, but he appreciated it in moments such as now when it was sleek, dark, and shiny. Almost illuminated by the neon lights behind her. Then there were her eyebrows, her nose…Rosaria had a face that reminded him of home. Old neighbors, kids he played soccer with when he was just a boy. Admittedly, it made him feel warm inside. 

Then there was the matter that over the course of nine months she had, without him realizing, grown a lot in how she conveyed herself. In the early days, Rosaria would have a little eyeliner, very soft lipstick. Today on the strip he recalls glancing at her midconversation and seeing eyeshadow, a more prominent shade of red on her lips. When he took her to the best retail shop Vegas had to offer, she chose figure-fitting clothes without the influence or insistence of Raphael. 

When they first met, Pietro remembers loosely assuming his assistant to be twenty-two, twenty-four - Rosaria being twenty-seven surprised him. If he met her today and learned she was twenty-eight, he wouldn’t have been as surprised because it was all in the way she was now carrying herself.

But not all of Pietro’s thoughts were pure.  The perverse side of him couldn’t help but think of how pretty her bare shoulders would look in the night’s glow. He couldn’t help but think of how her pretty brown eyes would look up at him with eagerness and reverence if he pressed her back into the hotel room’s tall glass window. He wanted to kiss her so badly.

“Why don’t you come lay next to me?” He pleasantly asks her, warm and inviting.

Her eyes visibly widened, “Mr. Impellizzeri-”

Casualties be damned, Pietro wanted intimacy tonight. Smoothly, he corrects her; “Pietro. I can be Pietro here.”

“I-” Much to his dismay, she didn’t repeat his name. Instead, Rosaria merely furrowed her brow, her legs pressed close together, her ankles crossed. Pietro wondered if it was an attempt to fight off arousal. “I don’t feel comfortable doing that,” in her nervousness she choked out a modest laugh. 

“Why not?” 

“The first time we slept together, you - when you were getting dressed you said we could never be found out for what we did, and then I started to feel bad and I swore we would never do something like that again, as a precaution!” Pietro thinks this is the first time a woman told him exactly how she felt about a one-night stand. Ever so slightly, his brow creases: “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” 

“I’m sure you didn’t intentionally mean it, but it was a moment of weakness on my part and I would never want to jeopardize your career! Or my position alongside y-” 

He lifts himself off the mattress, “nobody can see what we do in here,” similarly, his hand raises; pointer finger gesturing for her to come his way. “It’s okay.”

For a split second, Rosaria swore she could perfectly visualize herself below him on his bed. Flushed, she thought it would be nice to feel him kiss her again, to inhale his scent again…

But…no. She would wake up in bed alone, overthinking and guilt-ridden, just like how she rose from his floor feeling dirty. She doesn’t think she could bare his back turned to her in the morning, especially not when she had a meeting to attend with him. Maybe he would give her attentive affection for the remainder of the time they were here, though. But she would be off her high once they got into the airport as the reality of their positions set in. 

She didn’t want that feeling, she didn’t want that regret, she didn’t want to yearn for nights with him.

 “M-Mr. Impellizzeri,” she breathes, frustrated and hasty, “I-I can’t do that. But thank you for listening to me! I’m going to try to go to bed!”

“Goodnight, Rosa.”

He couldn’t get an attitude with her. She would be back, he was sure of it.

                                                — 

“Nobody can see what we do in here,” he had said to her, voice as thick as honey. “It’s okay.”

Thoughts of what they could have done infiltrated her mind, just as memories of what they had done before had made her thoughts vivid. 

She tried to sleep. Rolled to the left, to the right, but the thought of Pietro kept her thighs pressed together as if that would relieve her need.

She wanted Pietro making rough sounds in her neck again as he felt pleasure, she wanted her knees planted in his king mattress, her soft body pressed against his firm one as he brought his hand inside her panties, fingers curling inside her. 

She’s a hundred percent sure he made her come on his wooden floor just by a light growl in addition to his thrusts, so imagine how easily he could make her come with his hands - how many times could he make her cum if they had all the time in the world to themselves? Such thoughts kept her needy and reckless. Rosaria felt compelled to try to replicate the fantasy, but she knew her slender digits wouldn’t be thick enough to give her the friction she craved. Really, Rosaria could almost weep from frustration: she hates fingering herself. She didn’t even bring a vibrator on this trip!

 Rosaria was sure that Pietro’s thick fingers would feel almost as good as his cock, though. She remembered how during foreplay, Ben use to tease her clit with his fingers as a prelude for inserting his tongue and tasting all the wetness he got out of her. Maybe Pietro would do the same - the idea of him going down on her was nice, but she didn’t want that. She wanted him to tease her, yes, but she wanted him to say - no, command her, to taste herself off of his fingers before he slipped his hand back inside her.

How pathetic was this? Rosaria asked herself. Not because she was arching her back as she gently caressed her body, but because any other woman would have seized to opportunity to get on Pietro’s bed and let whatever happen, happen. 

She couldn’t do it, she couldn’t touch herself. 

Bold and needy, Rosaria considered going back to Pietro’s room. It had only been nine, ten? Minutes by now. But she couldn’t go back into his room after leaving in such a rush, could she? Would he laugh at her? Cruelly deny her need since she turned him down? But, Rosaria thought, other women wouldn’t care. Other women would go to him - get their needs fulfilled - and then go about their business. Rosaria thought it was time to be like other women. With hands trembling, she wondered if she could knock at the door. But, at the end of the day, Rosaria was a Scozzari. They were inclined to be bold, pursuers. “Pietro…” knuckles gently brush against the white painted door, “are you awake…?”

“...I’m awake.”

When Rosaria enters, he still looks comfortable and content. Not resentful, not bitter. He flashes her that reassuring half-smile and she swore she could melt: “what took you so long?”

[jillsreviews]

#BookTour: THE CHIDHAM CREEK MURDERS by Pauline Rowson @joffebooks #BookReview #CrimeFiction @JoffeBooks @booksnall2020

Today I am thrilled to be kicking off the Book Tour for THE CHIDHAM CREEK MURDERS by Pauline Rowson.  This is book 18 in the Solent Murder Mysteries series  and is available from Amazon for just 99p/99c – buy from Amazon THE CHIDHAM CREEK MURDERS Format – Kindle Publisher – Joffe Books Mystery, Crime Thriller, Suspense Publication Date – 3rd September 2024 Genre – Crime thriller, mystery and…

[owenthomasfiction]

The Forward INDIES Book Of The Year Awards has shortlisted this book for best mystery of the year!

A carefully crafted mystery with a lot of layers and surprising turns.

.

Order your copy today: https://bit.ly/amzMiaB

[ladygangsters]

Soon I'll stop being lazy and actually make a simblr intro and get a proper theme and stuff but in the meantime

Hi I'm Vivi, you might know me from my other blog @crimewriter. I'll be lurking and figuring out this game for now but I hope to work on a story soon, and also develop my OCs and put them out into the world. One of my main characters, Ángel, was featured a few times at @citylighten's story Sink or Swim (forever and always a fave). If any of you remember this scene, the girl he mentions is a young Patricia, my other main character. The two of them will be the OCs I'll be focusing on the most when I talk about storytelling and outlines and headcanons etc

This is far from a proper intro but I've been wanting to make this blog for ages, so I'm very excited ❤️

[exspiritment]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒 .

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁  𝟶𝟶𝟷    :    𝐓𝐇𝐄    𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄.

NAME  :   spirit harris

EYE COLOR  :    hazely, greeny.

HAIR STYLE  /  COLOR  :    naturally ginger. dyed bleach blonde. self-cut into shaggy layers and bangs.

HEIGHT  :    5'5".

CLOTHING STYLE  :   she's either in clubbing dresses (black silk slips, velvet rompers) or pajamas (sweat shorts and hoodies/crewnecks, men's button-ups, etc)

BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE  :    idfk? nose, smile.

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁  𝟶𝟶𝟸    :    𝐓𝐇𝐄    𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄.

FEARS  :   abandonment/rejection, confinement

GUILTY PLEASURE  :   worth nothing she doesn't feel guilt easily. that said, sexting with someone she shouldn't.

BIGGEST PET PEEVE  :   being underestimated or misunderstood, especially in a business scenario.

AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE  :    she wants to survive living a pretty simple existence. don't get caught, i guess.

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁  𝟶𝟶𝟹    :    𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒.

FIRST THOUGHTS WAKING UP  :  "head hurt"

THEY THINK ABOUT MOST  :    a small white room.

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED  :   if she's not getting laid — why she went to bed alone.

WHAT THEY THINK THEIR BEST QUALITY IS  :  her charm.

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁  𝟶𝟶𝟺    :    𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓’𝐒    𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑?

SINGLE OR GROUP DATES  :    single dates. she wants to be the center of attention so bad.

TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED  :    loved.

BEAUTY OR BRAINS  :    beauty.

DOGS OR CATS  :   cats, but they're on thin ice

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁  𝟶𝟶𝟻    :    𝐃𝐎    𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘…

LIE  :   all day every day.

BELIEVE IN THEMSELVES  :   ehhhhhhh???

BELIEVE IN LOVE  :   not the way you and i do. her conception of relationships and what she wants/deserves is so, so twisted.

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁  𝟶𝟶𝟼    :    𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄    𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘    𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑…

BEEN ON STAGE  :   no. that would be an interesting scenario, actually.

CHANGED WHO THEY WERE TO FIT IN  :   not when she was younger, but certainly nowadays.

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁  𝟶𝟶𝟽    :    𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒.

FAVORITE COLOR  :    black.

FAVORITE ANIMAL  :   rabbits.

FAVORITE BOOK  :   can't read like that.

FAVORITE GAME  :  png.

𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁  𝟶𝟶𝟾    :    𝐀𝐆𝐄.

DAY THEIR NEXT BIRTHDAY WILL BE  :   12/23

HOW OLD WILL THEY BE  :    25

TAGGED BY:  @hammurabicomplex / @crimewriter TAGGING: @diicktective @illwriteatragedy @tahitiwoke @ruinaa @natophonetic for trevor @jupiter3 for emily @d1c4af for vanya @feralego for pippa

[justforbooks]

Peter Robinson was the creator of the immensely popular Inspector Alan Banks crime series, set in Yorkshire – the books sold almost 9m copies in 19 languages and spawned a successful television series (DCI Banks, 2010-16) starring Stephen Tompkinson as Banks.

Robinson, who has died aged 72 after a brief illness, first introduced Banks and the fictional Yorkshire town of Eastvale to the crime-reading world in 1987 with Gallows View. The gruff Yorkshire cop, complex as the best crime cops are expected to be, but with a belief in fairness and justice, was an immediate success, with Gallows View shortlisted for the best first novel award in Canada and for the UK Crimewriters’ Association’s John Creasey award.

Although he had not necessarily intended to write a series, Robinson went on to produce a Banks novel a year – as well as award-winning short stories. He was regularly nominated for and frequently won awards in Canada, the US, France, the UK and Sweden.

A native of Yorkshire, Robinson lived for most of his life in Toronto. He once said he started the Inspector Banks series because he was homesick in his early days in Canada.

He was born in Castleford, West Yorkshire, to Clifford Robinson, a rent collector, and Miriam (nee Jarvis), a cleaner, and grew up in Armley, a working-class suburb of Leeds (also home to fellow writers Alan Bennett and Barbara Taylor Bradford). It is not too much of a stretch to assume that aspects of Inspector Banks’s adolescence in the 1960s, as described in Close to Home (2003), the 14th novel in the series, mirrored Robinson’s own.

He described in one interview how he spent the lively summer of 1965 “with his ear glued to his transistor radio and his eyes on the passing girls”. He went to Leeds University to study English literature. While there he wrote poetry and gave public readings around Yorkshire.

In 1974 he moved to Canada, to take an MA in English and creative writing at the University of Windsor, Ontario. One of his tutors was the prolific and highly esteemed American author Joyce Carol Oates, who taught him, among other things, to take his writing seriously.

He then moved to Toronto, to York University, to take a PhD in English. There he organised various poetry events and helped set up a small press with friends, whose publications included a volume of his own poems. He settled in the city after meeting his future wife, Sheila Halladay, a lawyer, there.

Although he continued to write poetry occasionally throughout his life (some of which he placed in one or two of his novels, attributed to various characters) he once explained that things he would previously have put in his poems he now put in his prose.

In each Banks novel Robinson explored the character of the policeman a little more, but always keeping him grounded in his sense of decency and justice. Robinson was teaching at different colleges from time to time during this period – including a year as writer in residence at his old university, Windsor.

In 1990 he published a stand-alone novel, Caedmon’s Song, a psychological thriller in which two young women in different parts of England find their paths crossing in an alarming way.

In 2000 he made a step-change with the 10th Banks novel, In a Dry Season, which had a more complex (and haunting) plot, set around secrets long hidden in a village flooded to create a reservoir and revealed when the reservoir dries up. Oddly, his fellow Yorkshireman Reginald Hill, creator of that bluff northern detective Andy Dalziel and his university-educated sidekick, Peter Pascoe, had the same idea of using a flooded village and dried-up reservoir in On Beulah Height, published around the same time.

Hill won the US Barry award for On Beulah Height in 1999 and Robinson the same award for In a Dry Season the year after. In addition it won the Anthony award in the US and the Martin Beck award in Sweden. In 2002 Robinson was awarded the Dagger in the Library by the UK Crime Writers’ Association for most popular author of that year, voted for by libraries.

He claimed it got harder as time went on to maintain the high standard he had established for himself in the series, but it was not noticeable in his output. Banks went on through divorce, further success in his career and no let-up in the complexity and sometimes brutality of the cases he investigated.

Robinson visited the UK regularly – he and Sheila had a cottage in Richmond, North Yorkshire – and he was a well-known and welcome presence at crime fiction festivals around the world.

In 2009 the University of Leeds awarded him an honorary doctorate. He and his wife later endowed the Peter Robinson scholarship at Leeds to help students from less advantaged backgrounds study English – preferably students with an interest in creative writing.

The first episodes of the Inspector Banks TV adaptation came along in 2010, with Tompkinson well received playing the title character. It ran for five series.

Robinson had completed another Banks novel before he died. Standing in the Shadows is due to be published next year.

Sheila survives him.

🔔 Peter Robinson, writer, born 17 March 1950; died 4 October 2022

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[cartelheir]

i've been lowkey depressed and save for a reply or two around here i don't really have the energy to be super active. i'll be hiding at @crimewriter for a while so find me over there if you wanna <3

[swiftiesai999]

Wait, Season Changed - Napatsorn Treesap 

Wait for a moment Stay silent for just a crime Wave the coldness in the crowd and creep Stay silly for just a signWorshipping the warm and the warriors Diving deep through the darkness of the doomWatering the seed and the soulful rhymeDriving down the road stealing the crimeWrite for a torment Wipe away all the timeWeep for a moment Wine more this timeSeason changes and the station apartSeason…

[citylighten]

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[ginaraemitchell]

Multi-Book Spotlight Tour featuring Marianne Scott | 4 Books plus a Guest Post from the Author | #Mystery #Thriller @mariannescott44 @iReadBookTours

Take your thriller & suspense loving friends on a ride that they’ll never forget for Christmas! Give them a roller-coaster ride full of twists and turns on one of best-selling & award-winning author Marianne Scott’s novels. Order one or all today. Enter #giveaway for a chance to win $50 PayPal gift card. @Mariannescottwriter/ @acornsireadbooktours @mariannescottauthor @iReadBookTours #thrillerbook #thrillers #crimethriller #thriller #bookstagram #crime #crimefiction #books #psychologicalthriller #suspense #thrillerbooks #murdermystery #suspensethriller #crimedrama #crimenovel #booklover #mystery #crimebooks #readcrimefiction #bibliophile #booksbooksbooks #whodunnit #classiccrimefiction #booksofinstagram #crimewriter #noir #detective #thrillerbookseries

Multi-Book Spotlight Tour featuring Marianne Scott | 4 Books plus a Guest Post from the Author | #Mystery #Thriller @mariannescott44 @iReadBookTours A book blog tour from iRead Book Tours. Thank you to the author, publisher, & Lauren at iRead for providing me with the information for this tour. Today, I’m featuring four books by Marianne Scott, along with a guest post from Marianne on how she…

[bornfornothin]

@crimewriter​ asked: 1, 3 & 4!

CHARACTER QUESTIONNAIRE: accepting. 

1. answered!

3. What was their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go? 

his most expensive purchases are definitely on his wardrobe. job really likes flashy and gaudy clothes and shoes. he does thrift some things and does find some cheap stuff, but he’s willing to pay a good deal for a cool jacket or pair of boots. he also spends a good deal of any extra (or not so extra, he’s not always responsible with money) cash on sex workers.

he spends a lot on weed, but he doesn’t think it’s a lot, since he’ll buy a couple of grams at a time for cheap, but it doesn’t really matter when he does this every other day.

4. Do they have any scars or tattoos?

no tattoos, for religious reasons (reform judaism does allow tattoos, but job still has a couple of more conservative ideals from the way he was raised), but he has a few scars. they’re nothing very significant or all that noticeable. one is from a dog bite on his right arm from when he was a kid, which is the main reason he doesn’t like dogs now. he has a two-inch scar on his left shoulder from a fight where a guy cut him with a broken bottle. he has a collection of several various small scars all over from various fights/attacks, some from when he was a kid.

[jillsreviews]

#BookTour: A BODY ON THE FLATS by Max Manning @joffebooks #BookReview #CrimeFiction @JoffeBooks @booksnall2020

Today I am thrilled to be kicking off the Book Tour for A BODY ON THE FLATS.  This is a brand new thriller by Max Manning and is available from Amazon for just 99p/99c – buy from Amazon A BODY ON THE FLATS Format – Kindle Publisher – Joffe Books Mystery, Crime Thriller, Suspense Publication Date – 3rd September 2024 Genre – Crime thriller, mystery and suspense Author – Max Manning Buy from…

[jv-club]

This week brings you novelist, podcaster and Boy of Summer Toby Ball (Crimewriters On, Strange Arrivals), whose addition to The JV Club completes the Crimewriters On collection! In this episode you’ll not only learn about Toby’s teens and twenties, you’ll also hear him rescue JV from her own politics-and-media existential quagmire! So grab your favorite album and treat yourself to some ice cream as summer rolls on…

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