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Here is the book blurb for Twisted Love.
An art thief out of his depth in a criminal maelstrom meets a beautiful woman with no past.
Claude meets Maxine in the Caribbean and falls for her. In London, they begin a tempestuous affair. Claude discovers she is seeing another man, Bertrand, and calls on an East End friend to put a hit on Maxine’s lover. The hit man bungles the job. Bertrand’s body is found floating in the Thames.
Bertrand’s wife, Sandra, starts asking questions about his affairs. Maxine is soon visited by a tearful Sandra, unable to deny the favors Sandra asks of her and Claude.
The hit man wants more money. He makes a deal with the Russian Mafia to take out a gun runner.
Things start to turn nasty, becoming more complicated when Claude’s ex-wife turns up with her new man, a pimp and a heavy who wants Claude to steal a painting.
Claude pays another hitman, Grigory, to kill another of Maxine’s lovers. Grigory, a member of the Russian Mafia, decides to take over, killing the bosses and seizing their assets. And he wants interest on the hit: he wants Maxine.
Claude doesn't let Maxine go. He fights.
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SEDUCTIONS IN BARS, FAST CARS, LOOSE WOMEN, ALL THOSE beautiful young things, waiting for it to happen, and it did, all the way from the Caribbean to London.
Claude was knee-deep in the blue water of the Caribbean Sea when he first saw Maxine. Drops of sea water were running off her brown shoulders and she seemed to stop time with an appeal that was infinite.
That day beneath an intense indigo sky he made eye contact with her as she got out of the water and walked over to the bar. He would later look back on it as a defining moment, one of those rare events in a person’s life when they are offered something they’ve secretly desired but never believed they’re capable of having.
There were few things in life that Claude really wanted, but she was one of them. And he knew it instantly. He often wondered, after it all happened, if he hadn’t been drunk on Pina coladas, whether he would have made the first move and she would have vanished from his life like so many chances he’d let slip.
As it was, he stood up, walked over to her and, holding up his glass, said, ‘Can I get you one?’
Maxine didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just held him in her steady gaze that gave nothing away, and Claude begin to shrink inside his own skin, about to walk away.
‘Sure,’ she said, a sparkle in her deep brown eyes.
She was looking at him over the rims of her shades, and Claude found it sexy, the way she was taking him in.
He came back from the bar with two chilled coladas which they sat sipping beneath a parasol that advertised boating trips. And he felt someone had pierced his heart with a small fish hook.
He looked at her, at her inviting skin, the curve of her body in her swim suit, and said, ‘Are you here alone?’
‘My friend went into town.’
He nodded.
‘Friend.’
That night he took her out.
Her friend, Doris, was an overweight blonde who laughed nervously when she spoke. Claude met her briefly, maybe for two minutes at the Montehabana hotel where Maxine was staying. Doris offered Claude her cheek and he smelt vodka on her breath. They left her nursing a hangover and went out to eat at Dune’s.
‘I heard this is the most cutting edge place to eat round here,’ Claude said, watching Maxine raise a forkful of swordfish to her moist mouth.
‘This is good, oh, yeah,’ she said.
He liked the way she lingered over her words, speaking them slowly, as if she was tasting them. He liked the look of her manicured nails on the starched white tablecloth. He liked her perfume, and her Gucci shades, her sensuous hands, and the way her hair touched her shoulders. She seemed immersed in an endless sensual experience he wanted to be part of, as inviting as the blue water outside the restaurant window. He didn’t ask her if she had a man, he didn’t want the dream to end. They had lime sorbet and cognacs and they sat beneath a sky strewn with stars that Claude felt were placed there especially for them.
‘Are you from London?’ he said.
‘I am.’
‘Whereabouts?’
‘Hammersmith. And you?’
‘Fulham.’
‘Just up the road.’
‘It feels so far away.’
‘Out here, yes.’
They stood by the sea drinking in the salt air, and he was high on the illusion of night. She looked immaculate in an off the shoulder dress, all white, figure hugging, and she made him feel important and wealthy.
She was the kind of brunette he used to crave in his marriage, dark hair that shone, dark eyes, a full mouth and figure.
The mood was broken momentarily when she said, ‘What do you do?’
He looked away, towards the blurred shore around the bay. A yacht was making its way over the smooth blue water, and music floated through the dark air. It could have been in the middle of the ocean. The horizon of the land was fading in the night.
‘I sell boats.’
She took his arm and they walked along the edge of the water. When he kissed her she smelled of peaches and honey.
Claude wanted her, he wanted her like he’d wanted nothing in his life.
‘Do you think Doris will mind if you don’t go back tonight?’
‘She’s probably taken a sleeping pill. Where are you staying?’
‘The Raquel Boutique.’
And for one night in the tropical heat Claude forgot who he was. Back at his hotel room, with iced wine on the side, he peeled away Maxine’s skin tight dress and ran his hand down her arm to her waist.
‘You look like a model.’
She wrapped her long arms around his shoulders and stepped out of her stilettos.
‘You like me, Claude?’
‘I do, baby, oh I do.’
‘You like high maintenance women?’
He didn’t listen to the question because he didn’t care anymore after she touched him. She stepped out of the dress and stood there with nothing on.
‘You see I came prepared,’ she said.
‘You sure did, what a body.’
She was the greatest high he’d ever known. They slept in his bed as the fevered percussion of crickets filled the erotic night with their incessant rhythm.
What people are saying about Twisted Love:
"" - Matt Hilton, best-selling author
"When you pick up a Richard Godwin book, you can be sure you are holding
the work of one of the most daring and distinct crime writers working
today. He’s also one of the most versatile… Godwin can also always be
relied upon to introduce a single moment of violence that permanently
sears itself into your mind, and Confessions of a Gigolo is no
different… Careful you don’t miss it - tonally this is a Fulham Wolf of
Wall Street, exposing the emptiness at the heart of excess. Another gem
from Godwin." - Mike Stafford, nudgemenow.com
What a riveting tale!
Purchase Links:
Universal Amazon Link: https://bookgoodies.com/a/B07K35F6YQ
Thanks for letting us know all about your erotic crime noir fiction novel! It sounds like quite a read! :)
About the Author:
Visionary artist. Multi genre novelist specializing in crime and noir. Poet,
playwright, narrator. Revolutionary thinker.Richard Godwin is the critically acclaimed author of over 20 books, and has stories published in numerous magazines and over 34 anthologies.
Born in London and lectured in English and American literature at the University of London, Richard is the founder of The Horus Club.
Books: Apostle Rising, Mr. Glamour, One Lost Summer, Noir City, Meaningful Conversations, Confessions Of A Hit Man, Paranoia And The Destiny Programme, Wrong Crowd, Savage Highway, Ersatz World, The Pure And The Hated, Disembodied, Buffalo And Sour Mash, Locked In Cages, Portrait of An Assassin, Android Love Human Skin, Insincerity, Confessions of a Gigolo, and Twisted Love.
Author Links:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/stanzazone
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Richard-Godwin/e/B004YQVTRY/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/richardgodwin02/
Publisher: http://gritfiction.co.uk
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