Free eBook… My comic crime novella ‘Hitman Sam’ is free today, Wednesday 11th October! Click on the following link: http://mybook.to/HitmanSam (which will take you to the Amazon page in your country). NB. It’s based on Amazon U.S. time so free time will depend upon where you live.
Newly-redundant software designer Sam Simpson is looking for a new adventure – a cryptic advert in his local paper gives him that, and more.
With two women vying for his affection, going behind their backs isn’t the smartest things he’s ever done.
Below is the start of Chapter 1:
Click, click, click. “Sod this.” Sam threw the remote onto the empty sofa seat next to him. “Who in their right mind watches daytime TV? Roll on Pointless.”
He looked at the clock. Four-thirty. Too early for supper. “Cuppa and toast should do it.”
Being his first winter at number five Greath Close, he was now realising how much 1930s houses cost to heat with the exposed floorboards and their gaps.
He looked round the kitchen. Maybe he’d spend some of his newly acquired time redecorating. He reckoned it had been quite a few years since the place had seen a paintbrush, the kitchen especially. Fortunately the units were quite modern, a fairly pleasing lime colour, but the walls were a drab blue, made especially cold by the season. The colour scheme reminded him of a phrase his mother used to say, “Blue and green should never be seen” or something like that. Sam didn’t mind anyway, he was relishing having the place to himself since Michelle had left and he could now do whatever he liked. He was grateful she’d not invested any money when he’d bought the house and wasn’t tied to paying her back.
“Never go into business with family or friends,” was another of his mother’s favourite sayings, Sam’s dad having been stung with the latter. She’d then set up a small interior design company which had gone from strength to strength, until an offer from a local entrepreneur had been one she couldn’t refuse. She and Sam’s father were now on a Mediterranean cruise from some of the proceeds.
Sam digressed. That was something he’d become an expert at. He wondered whether he could make a living out of it. He’d upload his CV and profile into totaljobs.com as a ‘professional procrastinator’, minimum £30K per annum, click here to contact.
Putting on the kettle, he went upstairs and grabbed a jumper, returning to the kitchen as the kettle clicked off and he fetched the milk from the fridge. He shook the bottle, not noticing a lump hitting the side. Pouring the water on the tea bag, he added a spoon of half-calorie sugar (his mates had ribbed him about his small potbelly so he’d decided he’d better watch his weight). Like many people, Sam didn’t think of checking the date or sniffing the milk as he unscrewed the top. It wasn’t until the blob of congealed milk plonked into the black and red striped mug, that he’d figured it was time to get a fresh bottle.
“I suppose I can kill two birds and get the job paper as well. Can’t live on fresh air and there must be more to life than daytime TV.”
Taking the keys from the kitchen table, he put on his jacket and slammed the front door behind him. The local shops were only a few minutes’ walk from his house, barely enough time to decide whether he needed anything else.