It's a Guest Blog.
It's About a Book.
There is a giveaway too.
Enjoy.
THE RECKLESS ENGINEER by Jac Wright
Can you forgive
betrayal?
The aftershocks of an affair reverberate out to those in the lives of
the lovers, who will NOT take it lying down.
Jack Connor lives an idyllic life by the Portsmouth seaside married to
Caitlin McAllen, a stunning billionaire heiress, and working at his two jobs as
the Head of Radar Engineering of Marine Electronics and as the Director of
Engineering of McAllen BlackGold, his powerful father-in-law Douglas McAllen's
extreme engineering company in Oil & Gas.
He loves his two sons from his first marriage and is amicably divorced
from his beautiful first wife Marianne Connor.
Their delicately balanced lives are shattered when sexy Michelle
Williams, with whom Jack is having a secret affair and who is pregnant with his
child, is found dead and Jack is arrested on suspicion for the murder.
Jeremy Reid brings in top London defence attorney, Harry Stavers, to
handle his best friend's defence.
Who is the bald man with the tattoo of a skull seen entering the
victim's house? Who is "KC"
who Caitlin makes secret calls to from a untraceable mobile? Has powerful Douglas McAllen already killed
his daughter's first partner and is he capable of killing again? Is Caitlin's brother Ronnie McAllen's power
struggle with Jack for the control of McAllen Industries so intense that he is
prepared to kill and frame his brother-in-law?
Is the divorce from Jack's first wife as amicable on her part as they
believe it to be? Are his sons prepared
to kill for their vast inheritance? Who
are the ghosts from Caitlin's past in Aberdeen, Scotland haunting the
marriage? What is the involvement of
Jack's manager at Marine Electronics?
While Jack is charged and his murder trial proceeds in the Crown Court
under barrister Harry Stavers’ expert care, Jeremy runs a race against time to
find the real killer and save his friend's life, if he is in fact innocent, in
a tense saga of friendship, love, desire, power, and ambition.
Website: jacwrightbooks.wix.com/jacwright
Facebook: www.facebook.com/jacwrightbooks
Twitter: @JacWrightBooks
The author is giving away two $25 gift cards to blog members who either
comment on this blog post with their email address of enter through the Web Form here:
Guest Post: The Cast
of The Reckless Engineer Celebrates Christmas the Year Before
The cast of The
Reckless Engineer celebrates Christmas the year before while a storm is brewing
that would explode less than ten months later.
Jeremy clutched his
steering wheel in a low rage mixed with pain that had not lessened after all
these months. He had pulled over outside Maggie’s house, having driven all the
way to Southampton from London to surprise her, a wrapped present of diamond
studded anklets forlorn on the seat next to him. Maggie had gorgeous feet with
long French manicured toes and he had longed to latch the anklets around them.
That, however, was Gregory’s SUV in her driveway. Jeremy had been sure that Maggie and he were
back together for good when she had driven over to his flat in London
Kensington and stayed three nights with him just last week. The sex had been so
intimate, powerful, and he had poured his heart out to her about his worries
about his new company. Radio Silicon’s had finished its first engineering
contract a month ago and, try as he might, Jeremy had not been able to land
another one in this recession. He needed her now. How could she be with him and then sleep with
Gregory only a few days later as if she and he had never happened?
He couldn’t go home to
Mother. He had told his parents that he was spending Christmas with Maggie.
They loved Maggie and were so proud of her, and he had never told them that she
had broken up and moved out.
He thought for a moment
and pressed the fast-dial button on his mobile. ‘Hey, Harry. I’m coming over
for Christmas after all. You still have a place open around your dinner table?’
Thank god for Harry, his
best friend––as far as Jeremy was concerned, almost his brother. Growing up on
the same street together, Jeremy had defended Harry from the playground bullies
through their school years and Harry had bailed him out of all the trouble he
got into during their university days together at Stanford. With another glance
at Maggie’s house, which sent a pang of pain from this throat through his heart
down to his gut, Jeremy put his car back into gear. The Fortnum & Mason
hamper and the bottle of champagne on his back seat would go to Christmas
dinner with him at Harry’s place.
* * *
The Family was gathered in
the Sitting Room of the McAllen mansion in Aberdeen. After a hearty Christmas
dinner they were now enjoying an assortment of deserts in the Sitting Room. It
was eerie how much this room reflected the Sitting Room in his own house in Guildford,
Jack thought; but then Caitlin and Douglas McAllen had directed the designs and
the build of that part of their house and Caitlin had wanted her own little bit
of Scotland right in the heart of Hampshire.
The men were in tartan
kilts, a variation derived from the tartan of the MacAlister clan the family
descended from. Douglas McAllen always insisted on it. Jack felt ridiculous in
the skirt, but he would dare not show anything but enthusiasm to anyone in “The
Family” even though he always privately complained about it to Caitlin
(complaints which she would answer by asking him to stop being so cross all the
time). That morning he had had to follow the McAllen men and join a long
procession of nearly fifty Scottish clans for a slow march around Aberdeen to
the wail of bagpipes after which they had been served steaming bowls of soup
and bread at the church-hall. He had to admit he had felt something primal and
exhilarating about all that male tribal energy in the hall after the march and
the buttered bread soaked in the soup had tasted so good.
Gillian was helping little
one-year-old Kristie unwarp the presents around the brightly lit Christmas tree
while the toddler’s proud parents, Ronnie and Elise, and grandma Leanna looked
on, laughing and applauding. McAllen briefly stopped the discussion with Jack
on the electromagnetic telemetry tool for detecting oil and gas reservoirs that
was on Jack’s planning table at the McAllen Blackgold offices down south to
look on at his granddaughters with a proud benevolent smile. Jack could sense
he had McAllen all excited about this device, but why the hell the he kept
probing him about the electro-mechanical details that only an electrical
engineer could understand Jack didn't know.
Well, he had got used to humouring the old man, keeping his impatience
in check. Jack followed McAllen's gaze
and glanced around the room. The McAllen women were all in tartan skirts but
for Caitlin who had had a pair of trousers made out of her family tartan.
Caitlin always liked to wear the trousers.
A splash, splash of water
drew Jack’s attention to the pool outside the large French patio doors. As usual Peter had tagged along up to
Scotland with everybody and, as usual, he was swimming his evening laps outside
in the heated swimming pool. As he had promised Marianne, Jack would fly down
to Portsmouth with Peter tomorrow morning, leaving the rest of his family
behind, and have Boxing Day dinner with his own kids, Peter and Mark, and his
mother at Marianne’s.
A text vibrated the Blackberry in Jack’s
hand. There wasn’t even a pocket to keep his phone in this bloody costume.
Jesus, it was Michelle with one of those “sextexts” as she called them. It had
been six months since he had got involved with Michelle and now he wanted out.
He had broken up with her just before Christmas. A sudden tremor of fear ran
through him like a chill. She had thrown a tantrum and threatened to tell
Caitlin all about the affair, and here she was invading this respectable family
scene with a brash, explicit message that had a hint of a threat in it. He had
better stop by her house and pacify her before driving over to Marianne’s. Jack
knew what pacifying her meant––wild, clothes tearing, sweat pouring, neck
biting, back scraping, loud groaning sex. Jack took in a deep breath, puffed
out his cheeks, and blew out the air slowly as if he were blowing into a bowl
of hot butternut squash soup with bits of bacon in it.
Excerpt: Jeremy Meets Douglas McAllen & Co
At
six foot four in height Douglas McAllen was an immense, imposing, and regal
presence that owned every room he walked into. Like Caitlin he lightly packed
his tall and broad frame with lean flesh and muscles, somewhat slackened with
time, without being either over or under weight. His face was crinkled with
fine lines like cracked drying mud, and the equally wrinkled hand he extended
to them betrayed a slight tremor from his sixty odd years of life on earth and
from the strain of his daughter’s plight.
‘Harry Stavers?’ His deep voice resounded through the room. He slouched
down and extended a hand to Harry whose five-foot eight-inch slim frame was
dwarfed by the presence of the older man.
‘Pleased to meet you in person, Mr. Stavers, and thank you for stepping
in to help my daughter and son-in-law so effectively. This is Magnus Laird from
McKinley & Laird Solicitors.’
Magnus Laird walked in a step behind Douglas McAllen and was also a
presence of massive proportions in his own right. The two or three inches in
height and the half-a-dozen or so years in age he lacked relative to his
client, he made up for with three or four stones of extra weight packed
liberally around his torso. His face was dominated by a thick walrus moustache,
which he was in the habit of combing down with his right forefinger every now
and then.
‘How
do you do, Mr. McAllen, Mr. Laird? Please call me Harry.’ Harry stood upright,
greeting them with a steady voice of strength and confidence, like David facing
Goliath.
‘Och aye, Mr. Stavers. It is a pleasure
indeed my dear fellaw. I have heard much abit yer courtroom antics in the High
Court from me fellow members of the bar in London.’
Laird
bent forward to shake Harry’s hand heartily, taking care not to topple over,
then straightened back up with great effort, momentarily holding onto his own
back with his left hand the way pregnant women did.
‘And
this must be Jeremy Stone.’ McAllen’s blue eyes crinkled further into a smile
as he lithely took the half-length of the room with a few long strides. He put
his left hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and shook his right hand. The old man liked
him.
‘I
have heard much about you, good things, from Caitlin and Jack. It is a pleasure
to finally meet you, son. You must come and visit my factories in Aberdeen some
time. I am always in need of a fine engineer of your calibre.’
‘I am
honoured to meet you, sir.’ Jeremy bowed his head and smiled.
‘Och,
aye, Mr. Stone, the Engineer. The one who made the laboratory in the barn for
our dear Jack, I hear. Very clever, very clever indeed.’ Magnus Laird waddled,
carrying his bulk across the room, and shook Jeremy’s hand heartily for a long
minute or two with both of his.
‘I
only gave Jack a hand, Mr. Laird,’ Jeremy protested, but he couldn’t help being
cheered by his hearty appraisal.
‘It
has already been a long morning for us and we don’t have much time before we
have to face this bloody police interview. I need a word in private with Magnus
and Caitlin first, and then we can discuss matters over a spot of lunch. How
does that sound, Mr. Stavers, er, Harry?’
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