Deon's profile

Alexei smiled. An auburn-haired, voluptuous woman was standing on a stage, clutching a silver microphone with both hands. She had a long, angular face, with high cheekbones and pert, pent-up maroon lips. Her small mouth was open in the shape of a perfect circle, her lips occasionally trembling as she warbled over a series of notes in a sonorous, warming tone. The wild curls of her hair fell about her shoulders, caressing them gently as her head swayed slowly to the rhythm. The multi-coloured...

Dante stared at the vibrating phone in front of him. His writing hand suspended in mid-air, he inhaled slowly and sat upright in his chair, eyeing the machine warily. The phone vibrated again, forcefully spinning itself around in its attempt to attract his proper attention. Dante allowed his left hand to sink to the table. Then, rolling his pen to one side, he picked up his pad and ran his thumb along the ring binder, his gaze fixed. The phone began to flash impatiently, bright blue light co...

Edward Thompson, Daily Telegraph. “What or who is the inspiration for your books?” “Politics, past experiences, anything that provokes a reaction. Also people; people that I’ve met, inspirational people.” “Any in particular?” “You’ll have to work that out from the books.” Orlando drew a finger across his chin, lightly brushing the hairs underneath. He flashed a look at his agent. How long? Leaning against the wall at the back of the room, Alana smiled and held up three fingers. Orlando grima...

Mark cursed under his breath. The fuck is she doing? He leant against the open pub door and watched the woman as she took a couple of breaths, presumably to calm herself. For what, though, Mark couldn’t work out. All she was doing was reversing a fucking car. He scrutinized her features: early-twenties, pretty-ish, prim-looking. Driving a red Vauxhall Corsa. Probably a receptionist, he thought to himself. ‘Janine’, as Mark had decided to call her, gave herself one more psychological push, the...