Today on my blog I am pleased to host Stewart Giles new book and as part of my stop I am giving you a taste from the book with an extract.


From #1 best-selling author Stewart Giles comes the new mystery set on the Cornish coast. Where the pretty villages and towns hold some very dark secrets.




Two cats are found mutilated in the same town. Detective Harriet Taylor is reluctant to investigate, but then one of their owners is killed a bizarre way that same day.


Harriet and the team step in. The dead woman has four words written on her neck — four very ambiguous words.


Then another body turns up with the same words written on it.  Harriet fears the worst — a serial killer is on the loose in the small Cornish town of Trotterdown.

 Can Harriet stop the murders and work out the connection to the local writing group who, conveniently enough, have been set the task of writing stories on the theme of “the perfect murder”?


A crime mystery with a touch of black humour. You’ll enjoy this fast-paced and dark unearthing of the secrets of a sleepy Cornish community.

#netgalley #theperfectmurder @stewartgilesauthor @joffebooks



Author Bio

After reading English & Drama at three different English Universities and graduating from none of them, I set off travelling and finally ended up in South Africa, where I still live. I enjoy the serene life running a boat shop on the banks of the Vaal Dam. I came up with the DS Jason Smith idea after my wife dropped a rather large speaker on my head. Whether it was intentional still remains a mystery. Smith, the first in the series was finished in September 2013 and was closely followed by Boomerang and Ladybird. Occam’s Razor, Harlequin and Phobia (a series of short stories detailing Smith’s early life) were all completed in one hazy 365 days and Selene was done and dusted a few months later. Horsemen, the seventh in the DS Smith thriller series is out now. The Beekeeper, a departure from the DS Smith series will be released through Joffe Books on 22 May.



All Howard Winter had to do now was wait — and waiting was all part of the thrill. It had taken weeks of groundwork to get him to where he was now. Weeks of studying medical journals and pharmaceutical indications on the internet — browsing history deleted of course — and now he was satisfied it was time to act. It would look like suicide. He had researched his victim well. The police wouldn’t even consider foul play. Judy Bulmer’s body sank further into the bathtub until only her nose and mouth were above the water. Howard was tempted to help her along a bit, but he knew that could ruin everything. No, he thought, all he had to do was wait — wait for the sedatives and alcohol to work for him. Soon, Judy would drift off so deeply that she would slide under the water without even realising what was happening to her. Her nostrils were now only millimetres from the surface. The moment arrived and Howard held his breath. Judy’s heavy head sank slowly under the water. The result was rather anticlimactic and the end came quickly. A few bubbles rose to the surface, but she was already too far gone to put up a struggle. It was all over. He waited a moment until he was satisfied there was no coming back. Judy Bulmer was dead. Howard wiped the bath taps with his cloth, took one more look at the fruits of his labour and left the bathroom. He walked slowly down the stairs, making sure not to touch anything on his way. He examined the living room, looking for anything he might have missed earlier. The vodka and the bottle of pills were still on the coffee table. Howard had made sure to leave a few of the tablets in plain view so the investigating officers would know what they were dealing with. He had decided against leaving a note. From his research, he had gleaned that not everyone who takes their own life leaves a suicide note. He opened the curtains a few inches and peered out. The streets below were deserted. He opened the door and went outside. He walked down the steps, removing the rubber gloves at the same time. He strolled on at a leisurely pace, not wanting to arouse suspicion, although he knew most people would be at home enjoying the Christmas festivities with their loved ones.

Christmas was the season for suicide, he thought, as he turned the corner and made his way to where he had parked. He got in the car, started the engine and drove away from the scene, safe in the knowledge that what had just happened would never come to light.

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