BOOK EXTRACT for Me & My Books Reviews
Today I am able to share an extract for “The Penance List” by S.C.Cunningham.
This one comes with a warning – a steamy suspense-ridden psychological thriller – think Silence of the Lambs meets 50 Shades and hold on tight! S C Cunningham writes with a skilled mix of fuelled tension, dark humour and pulsating sex scenes. Grab a glass of wine, close the bedroom door and read alone!
What happens when opposites attract – when a scorned childhood sweetheart grows into a gorgeous sexual tour de force – when a fun loving career girl, her racy girlfriends and insatiable lovers get caught in his revenge – when sex becomes a weapon, hearts become bait and straight tastes gay – when hi-flying careers, clandestine affairs and wannabe starlets are hunted by celebrity hungry press? Obsession, kidnap, murder… and he’s just getting started!
Purchase from – Amazon
Three fun loving friends meet regularly for lunch, they have no idea that a stalker sits in a café opposite, taking pictures of their every move.
Cellini’s Restaurant, Chelsea, London
“Granted, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, if you swallow, you are in the minority, it needs sugar or brandy or something,” Tara blew her blonde fringe out of her eyes, concentrating on her defence.
“Depends on the guy’s diet of course, pineapple is meant to be good, no fast food, no ciggies, no drugs and it could almost be palatable,” her two girlfriends looked at her blankly.
“It’s full of protein, low on calories,” she enthused, but no, they were still not convinced.
Click, click… hidden in a cafe across the street, he pulled on the focus, ﬁtting all three into shot.
As per normal for most Fridays, the girlfriends giggled through lunch discussing men, or the lack thereof. Tara, Helen, and Josie were single, beautiful, intelligent, best of friends. They’d reached the age of thirty having avoided the three things that sap a girl’s energy; marriage, divorce and kids.
It wasn’t that they didn’t want long term relationships; they were sexually active and adored men, they’d just never quite understood the workings of the male mind.
If you give them what they want the chase is over and they move on, if you don’t give them what they want, you are a frigid bitch and they move on. If you give them the babies their egos crave for, they are out the door, ﬁnancing as little as possible, and seeing their offspring at weekends, between the golf, football and their latest sexual conquest. They want commitment yet freedom, for you to be faithful, yet them to be free, for you to be a full-time mother, yet them a part-time father. You couldn’t win.
Sourcing a man that knows what he wants, is a balanced, reliable, trustworthy soul mate, a good father, exciting and sexy as hell, was a tough call. Maybe the girls asked for too many boxes to be ticked, their quality control buttons set too high.
Maybe they shouldn’t even consider long term stuff until the guy was at least over thirty five, forty, settled in who he was and what he wanted. The trouble was a girl’s time clock ticked away. The choices were test tubes or older men. The most important choice a person makes is the parent of their child; no one wants to give the poor innocent thing a dodgy one that they have to live with for the rest of their lives.
It was tricky, can’t live with men, and can’t live without them. Hell, did they need to have babies anyway? Weren’t they overrated and oversupplied?
Tara Warr had a particularly high setting on her quality control button, although highly sexed, she was extremely choosy, the consequences of which led to long periods of man-drought. She was currently going through a serious dry patch, climbing the walls; she hadn’t been with a man for a year. She craved the relaxed laissez-faire attitude of Helen.
Helen Howard had a lower par setting, ‘love the one your with’, she made do with whatever was available on the day, or rather, whoever actually showed an interest in her, which, because she was beautiful, was quite a lot of men.
Josie James had little interest, what was all the fuss about? She would laugh along with the girls stories of man-woe, giving advice and sympathy where needed. She seldom dated, was wary of men and happy to be alone; she was more interested in her career and quite satisfied with the trusted middle finger of her right hand.
However cynical they appeared, they each had the romantic seed of hope, that one day Mr Right would come bursting in on his white charger or gas-guzzling SUV and whisk them away to a life of happily ever after. Meanwhile they waited, grazing on titbits that were, more often than not, bad for them.
Tara and Helen had met as juniors at a convent boarding school for young ladies, upsetting a multitude of nuns in their wake. Josie had been adopted by the feisty twosome years later at college. Her cheeky up-front London cockney savvy and their self-effacing Sloaney wit made an entertaining mix. They had stuck together through thick and thin, enduring life’s roller coaster; a good team.
Their bond was about to be tested. Evil was entering centre stage of their cosy, comfortable lives. It had been sitting on the periphery for years, plotting, planning, patiently waiting. It was watching them now; they only had to look up through the restaurant window to see it, hiding behind the large black lens that focused directly on them.
Click, click… the shot pulled in tight, slender ﬁngers wrapped the stem of her glass.
“I love it, but I totally understand those that don’t, especially when you think about where it’s actually coming from… so to speak,” giggled Tara. “Excuse the pun!”
“Yes, urrgh!” Helen groaned, jumping on the gruesome fact with gusto.
Although she loved sex, she was not an advocate of placing anything remotely live or squidgy in her mouth. Her retch-reflex was too sensitive, oysters, snails and egg white had the same effect. She hated blow jobs.
“Think about it T, they urinate out of the same hole, it’s absolutely disgusting!” she raised her hand to the front of her face, blocking out the image.
“Yuk! Second thoughts don’t think about it, don’t even go there,” too late, she’d gone there, her face scrunched up with disgust.
“But, so do we,” corrected Tara, levelling up the case for the opposition.
Helen grimaced; covering her face with both hands to push away two sets of visuals. Looking down at her wine glass, the yellowy chardonnay didn’t look quite so appealing.
“Urrgh… STOP… I’m eatin, do ya mind?” moaned Josie, her cockney accent shouting over the two girls. She punched them both smartly on the shoulder, secretly loving it when they got into full debate on the endless subject of men and their ever-fascinating appendages.