– ‘The Magic of Wor(l)ds’ blog is a hobby, reviews and other bookish stuff on this site are done for free. –
Today I’m on the ‘Butterfly Assassins’ blogtour, organized by Zooloo’s Book Tours.
To promote this book I have an excerpt, but before I let you read it first some ‘basic’ information.
About the Author :
For twenty years Steve Walsh honed his skills in prose as an advertising copywriter; the ‘ideas’ man in a Manchester based marketing agency that carried his name.
In the late 1990’s he stumbled into the world of the dotcom entrepreneur and his claim to fame is as the creator of the hotel booking service, laterooms.com and the first car insurance comparison site, easycover.com. So, the birth of Meerkats, a Welsh opera singer and being confused.com might be considered as down to him, for which he apologises.
He now uses his vivid imagination and gentle Mancunian wit to write visionary fantasy novels with bold concepts. Wilson indeed, the first book in his trilogy The WiFi of Dreams takes the reader on a richly imagined, fact meets fiction adventure story to which we can relate and feel we can touch. A whimsical interrogation of the inexplicable and fundamental tenets of our lives – the role and meaning of dreams, the nature of the hereafter, hard and soft science, a love story – what more can you want?
Butterfly Assassins, the second book in the trilogy, will be published in Summer 2021.
In a recent survey, 85% of people said yes to the question: “Do you believe there are things out there that science can’t explain?”
If you’re one of those 85%, you’ll love The WiFi of Dreams series.
Born and bred in the north west of England, Steve Walsh has three children and likes to fly fish in his spare time.
Sally Bennett was an orphan and an only child. Incomprehensibly, at the age of ten, both her parents died in quick succession. Proof that fate deals our cards blind. One can be dealt three buses in a row, a run of traffic lights on red, or a pair of deaths; it all depends on the shuffle. Destiny was playing its hand and having led with a heart, the face card of her mother, Sally had no other option but to follow suit.
When Wilson and Daisy play with the Tetris blocks of the future, problems soon stack up. Butterfly Assassins is the sequel to Wilson indeed and takes us back to Sally Bennett, the car accident, shared dreams, and a divine intervention outside Davenport train station.
247 Chapel Street is a building at a crossroads, quite literally. The four-storey property sits at the junction of Quay Street and Chapel Street; a wolf whistle from the fashionable Spinningfields district and within staggering distance of the Rover’s Return on Coronation Street.
In recent years, 247 has begun to feel like the last man standing; a stubby old tooth in the smile of gleaming progress. Noisy neighbours and families of giants have moved into the area. Blocks of towering concrete, the shoebox homes for workers in tech start-ups and the gig economy are shooting up and creeping in on all four sides and their eagerness to squeeze out the elderly citizen in their midst is almost palpable.
Built in 1870 for mixed office use, 247 Chapel Street has Grade II listed status on account of the front elevation, which according to Salford Planning Department, ‘incorporates fine architectural features of the Victorian era, including sandstone scrollwork and gingerbread’. Frog-eyed gargoyles, their chiselled features disfigured by acid rain, glare down on visitors from the cornice at first floor level. Four, foot-worn steps lead up to the original, solid oak entrance doors. To the right, three name plates, barely legible beneath layers of traffic grime identify the commercial occupants as follows:
Balthazar Smith. Dealer in coins and antiquities. Ground Floor.
The Manchester Lepidopterist Society. Floor One.
The Savants’ Club. Floor 3b.
Balthazar Smith’s private apartment occupies the second floor. As the address suggests, 247 Chapel Street is open all hours but has never entertained any of Manchester’s lepidopterists or any savants for that matter, well, perhaps one or two of the latter.
As he emerged from Salford Central train station, Balthazar turned left at the lights on Chapel Street and with a purposeful stride began the one-kilometre walk to his office; through the midst of what can only be described as a giant building site. The cold nip in an east wind bit through the layers of his raincoat and tailored suit and the dusty slipstream of a passing bus tried to lift the Panama hat from his head. A watery sun bathed the burgeoning, new-build apartment blocks in lukewarm light.
The Magic of Wor(l)ds