Interviews

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It is always a pleasure to get Up, Close and Personal with Authors, Writers, Bloggers, Reviewers and Readers. They always have this ability to inspire and trigger introspection. A rendezvous with them is like serendipity. Check out whom all we have had chance meetings with...

Authors and Writers

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Framed And Burning

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I read this book before I read the first one in the series. And I loved every bit of it. It took me three sittings to complete my reading. No, it was definitely not because of the content, but due to my personal commitments. However, I sure will read it once again (even more) as and when I get the opportunity.

The plot is enthralling and disturbing at the same time. The concept of dreamslippers is something I have never heard of, and after reading this book, I definitely want to read up more on them. Also, the fact that Lisa addresses a vital issue to send across a strong message is commendable.

Lisa's writing style not only succeeds in vividly describing each scene, the tone at which narration is executed is strong enough to keep a reader glued to the book. She has integrated the evils of child pornography in her narration. And this is one issue which needs constant focus.

Children are innocent but, thanks to a few perverts, this innocence is exploited. Using their pictures, pae…
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Framed and Burning: An Excerpt

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His grandniece was sitting cross-legged on the couch, poring over a bunch of files from the Miami PD, and he knew the autopsy report was in there. Part of him wanted to read it, and part of him didn’t. He felt undone by his conflicting feelings, so he said nothing and slumped into a chair.

“I just learned the fire decreased my net worth,” he announced, but he was staring at the reflection of the sun bouncing off the water in a birdbath outside. Nonetheless, he felt Cat look up at him.

“Harsh,” she said. “The paintings? In your studio?”

“Yup.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Okay. I’m not.” There was a pause, and then she added: “I think most art is ridiculously overpriced anyway. I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, Uncle Mick, but eighteen-thousand for that big red splotchy thing you painted?”

Mick laughed. He should be offended, but on the contrary, he suddenly felt like he’d never loved his grandniece more. He thought about that dream of hers he’d walked into the first night in Ernes…
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The First Life of Vikram Roy: An Excerpt

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I hear the staccato of shots being fired, followed by yells and howls of pain. Then, the sound of something being smashed and everything goes quiet. The TV no longer chatters. I look to the open door. The recreation room is down at the end of the corridor. The sounds of shots get closer. Without giving myself a chance to think I make a run for the door slam it shut, lock it and it’s as if that’s a signal to the rest of the men to jump to their feet. 

Without a word, the ten of us scram to our bunks, pull on trousers and shoes.We get our hands on whatever weapon we can find. No guns, none of us have guns. So I grab my cricket bat. (As if that’s going to make a difference?)

 Around me the others too are grabbing cricket bats and hockey sticks. Neil grabs an iron rod. An iron rod? Where did he get that from?  We drop to the floor, crouch and wait. 

Should I hide under the bed? Nope, no way. Like, that is going to help. 
And then a crash as the door is broken down, hacked by what looks like a…
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