Friday, 12 October 2018

Killing Miracles by Andrew Moran

Andrew Moran is a bearded Canadian-based writer who holds a smoking pipe, drinks Tim Hortons coffee regularly and listens to swing and bebop jazz as he writes. He is a full-time professional and seasoned writer and journalist, whose work has been seen in an array of digital newspapers, blogs and websites. Andrew recently released a murder mystery titled "Killing Miracles". 

Book Blurb

Wise cracks, bourbon, smoking pipes, a black cat and a British associate. These are aspects in the life of Veronica Rogers, a private detective on a case involving adultery, wealth and murder. A woman seeks out the assistance of Veronica as she suspects her husband of cheating on her and trying to kill her. Is this a genuine plea for help or is a double cross in the picture? Veronica and her assistant look for a miracle to solve this case.

Book Excerpt 

“In a century, you’ll be dead, and nobody will remember your existence.”
Those were the final words that my ex-employer had told me before she went away.    
Please permit me to tell you about this woman I used to work for. She was a fascinating dame, a tough lady that you come across only once in a lifetime, or maybe every second century. It wasn’t anything romantic nor was there any physical attraction between her and I, but I did have an immense amount of admiration for my previous employer because of her superb qualities, sublime detecting ability and a knack for solving problems in two steps while the average cop would take 30 steps, plus a dozen doughnuts and bourbon.
            Her name was Veronica Rogers, a private detective who was immersed in her business and worked on any type of case imaginable: stolen diamonds, insurance fraud, love affairs and any other trivial matters that we get ourselves involved in for whatever reason, possibly because we are too afraid to confront our own death that we have to seek out meaningless issues to distract us. But I digress, a trait that certainly frustrated Ms. Rogers at times.

            I was her business associate, a jack-of-all-trades employee if you will - I assure you once again the entire partnership was simply platonic and professional; I was a conservative Briton from a middle-class family, while she was a Brooklyn native who was born in the slums and still had that stench that she tried to suppress. You can never wash away that odor, which one would never smell, but it would always follow her around her entire life. It’s like being an ex-convict, you’ll always be enshrined with those invisible stripes.

Book Link

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