Monday, February 16, 2015

Seumas Gallacher Author Spotlight - Blondie's Books From Friends (BFF)

Blondie's Books From Friends (BFF) Author Spotlight on Seumas Gallacher

My new author spotlight feature offers my lovely readers a water splash each Monday with booky goodness from some of my favorite author friends. When you see my blog with the BFF title it means you're in for a treat. If you would like to be featured on my blog contact me at any of my social media sights below.

My paperback should be available this week as soon as I get the a-okay from createspace. Stay tuned for a blog with links and pics of me holding my gorgeous Stealing Time proof copy! 

Win a $25 Amazon Gift Card
How? Simply leave a comment below and I will pick one random winner this month. It's that easy.

Author Spotlight on Seumas Gallacher and his Re-release novel SAVAGE PAYBACK

Seumas Gallacher
Author and Blogger of the Year
I am beyond thrilled to share the dashing and massively entertaining Seumas Gallacher on my author spotlight this week. 

I found Seumas on twitter a few years ago and was initially attracted to his Scottishness but soon discovered the big heart and willingness to support a fellow author. In fact, Seumas put me up for a beautiful blogger award, which was quite an honor. You can find the link here.

Seumas has quite the resume that began in the world of inter-national finance spanning three continents over five decades. His background provides superb fodder for his greatly successful Jack Calder crime-thrillers -- THE VIOLIN MAN'S LEGACY, VENGEANCE WEARS BLACK and SAVAGE PAYBACK. He has more than 80,000 e-book downloads to date a number that I can only drool upon.  He is now represented by Crooked Cat Publishing

Early in his writing career Seumas began developing his author platform and it has grown to a be an award winning powerhouse in the world of social media. He started a Scottish humor laced self-publisher's blog three years ago and rose to the rank of 'Blogger of the Year 2013.' 

Seumas is up for a Shorty Award for his blogging and we would both love if you would throw a vote his way. Here is the link: Seumas for Shorty! But hurry the deadline is February 19, 2015.

Show some love for one of my favorite social media icons and follow his sites, buy his books, and tell him I sent you.

Here are the links for Seumas:


Twitter:   @seumasgallacher




A series of coordinated lethal bomb attacks on a dozen jewelry stores in London’s West End drag former SAS officer, Jack Calder and his specialist security firm, International Security Partners, into a deadly mesh of murder and international drug running.

A black ops explosives expert, an ex-colleague turned renegade mercenary with a twisted lust for revenge, emerges from the past to join forces with a powerful and dangerous drug baron from Eastern Europe.

A major cocaine trafficker from South America compounds the threats as competitive turf issues straddle international territories.

Attacks close to home heighten the urgency for Calder and his team to find and deal with each of the three sinister adversaries in a final savage payback. 




   The dinghies carried normal outboard engines. The distance to the rear of the house needed nothing more powerful. Paul climbed in beside Jack. Donnie and Malky boarded the second. They slung the AK 47s across their backs and carried grenades in the overalls’ pockets. Calf-strapped daggers completed the weaponry, with no intent on taking prisoners. A hunt and kill mission.

   A long, slow arc brought them opposite the house. More lights showed through the curtains upstairs at the back, to all appearances a full house. Paul steered his dinghy ten metres left, cut the outboard and let it drift into the bank. Donnie did the same ten meters to the right. First out, Jack and Malky covered the others as they pulled the dinghies upside. From a crouching position they had a clear view of the outside perimeter. Malky pointed toward a guard sitting alone on a bench near the back door. A modern version M16 lay alongside a clutter of empty beer bottles and a full ashtray on the small table at the side. The remains of supper plates sat next to the bottles.  The guard hadn’t produced all that litter by himself. Where was the backup?

   The sentry raised another beer bottle to his mouth and tipped his head back. The man heard nothing as Jack covered the few metres to his quarry. A sharp karate blow to his exposed throat interrupted his swallow and seconds later a snapped neck sealed his fate. The other three approached. The sound of two men talking filtered toward the doorway. Donnie and Paul met them in one movement. Their unexpected presence gave the two former cops the edge as dagger slashes to the throat stifled any noise.

   They dragged the bodies outside to join their dead companion and entered the corridor as a foursome, AK 47s at the ready. The hallway extended three metres toward an opening into a large sitting area, passing a stairway leading to the upper floor level. The four-man chevron crept closer. A quiet buzz of conversation mingled with the sound of a television program. Jack estimated eight men in the large room as the team stepped in. He and Paul fired off from the centre to the left, Malky and Donnie taking from the centre to the right. In such a tight area aiming wasn’t needed. The combined fire-power swept the area in seconds. Bodies slumped where they sat or fell to the floor where they’d been standing. Paul and Malky waited at the door of the room in case they’d missed anybody. Jack and Donnie covered the two paces back to the stairwell. The clatter of boots thudded toward the top of the wooden banister. Jack lobbed a stun grenade up as he and his partner stepped to the side wall to avoid the blast.

    Screams of panic mixed with the sound of further movement. Three men lay across the upper landing and top stairs, disoriented by the stunning. A short burst from the AK 47 ended their confusion. Further noise indicated a hasty retreat of three or four others. Donnie passed Jack on the stairwell and threw another grenade up and along the upper hallway. Moments later the blast rocked the place again. The attacking pair mounted the stair in double steps, firing non-stop on the way. Only two men lay on the carpet, already felled by the deluge of bullets. Near the end of the corridor, a door slammed tight. All the other room doors were open. The prey was trapped in one chamber.

  Jack aimed at the door handle and let loose several bursts. The locking mechanism and the wood surrounding it disintegrated. The door swung inward a couple feet. Rapid fire from inside the room splintered more of the door as bullets ripped outward, causing it to slam shut and open again as it bounced against the lintel rim. The range of shooting from inside was confined to the borders of the door. Jack eased along the wall and threw in another grenade. Silence followed the explosion. Donnie crouched and peered into the room. One man was dead already, another dying beside him. Two shots to the head hastened his departure.

   Jack and Donnie covered each other in rote as they cleared each of the remaining three upstairs bedrooms, even checking wardrobes. Satisfied to find no further occupants, they joined their partners downstairs.

   “Anybody still breathing?” Jack asked Malky.

   “One guy over here, but he’s not gonna last more than a few minutes. He’s the only one,” said Malky, pointing to a badly injured man, sprawled across a blood-stained sofa. Jack knelt beside him.

   “Which of you is Ahmed Fadi?” he said.

   The man stared back at him and tried to shake his head.

   “Tell me, which one is he?” Jack repeated.

   The man moved his head again and tried to speak.

   “Viktor? Viktor? Viktor left yesterday. Fuck you,” he managed to whisper.

   A grotesque half-smile twisted at the man’s lips. His head lolled to the side as blood trickled from his mouth and the stare of death fixed across his eyes.

   Malky walked across to where the man lay and tugged at his sleeve.

   “You missed something, Jack. Look at his hand.” The right hand stuck out from the sleeve, the bare skin showing all the way to the wrist.

   “Well I’ll be damned,” said Jack. On the skin was a defined birthmark they’d seen before, resembling a large spilled coffee stain. The killer of Martha Compton and ISP’s accountant in Berlin would kill no more.

Connect With KJ Waters

When I'm not working on the Stealing Time series you can find me on my social media at the links below. My novel is out on amazon here.

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