Blog Tour · Extract

#BlogTour #Excerpt Welcome To The Heady Heights By David F. Ross #HeadyHeights @OrendaBooks

Today I would like to welcome you all on my stop of the Blog Tour for Welcome To The Heady Heights By David F. Ross and I would like to share an excerpt from the book, with all of you. Thank you very much to Anne from Random Things Tours for the invitation. Please do show some love to all the wonderful book bloggers on this blog tour by following and sharing their work. 🙂

heady heights blog poster 2019.jpg

Heady Heights cover.jpgPublisher: Orenda Books
ISBN13: 9781912374618
Genre: Crime
Release date: 21 03 2019
Price*: Kindle £4.31 (GBP)/  Paperback £8.99 (GBP)
Kindle $N/A (USD)/ Paperback $15.95 (USD)
Pages: ~ 276
You can get this book here:
Amazon UK
Book Depository

 

Description of the book:  It’s the year punk rock was born, Concorde entered commercial service and a tiny Romanian gymnast changed the sport forever.

Archie Blunt is a man with big ideas. He just needs a break for them to be realised. In a bizarre brush with the light-entertainment business, Archie unwittingly saves the life of the UK’s top showbiz star, Hank ‘Heady’ Hendricks’, and now dreams of hitting the big-time as a Popular Music Impresario. Seizing the initiative, he creates a new singing group with five unruly working-class kids from Glasgow’s East End. Together, they make the finals of a televised Saturday-night talent show, and before they know it, fame and fortune beckon for Archie and The High Five. But there’s a complication; a trail of irate Glaswegian bookies, corrupt politicians and a determined Scottish WPC known as The Tank are all on his tail…

A hilarious and poignant nod to the elusivity of stardom, in an age when making it’ was ‘having it all’, Welcome to the Heady Heights is also a dark, laugh-out-loud comedy, a heart-warming tribute to a bygone age and a delicious drama about desperate men, connected by secrets and lies, by accidents of time and, most of all, the city they live in.

Excerpt: January 1976

This had to be significant. For three consecutive nights, Big Jamesie Campbell had been dropped off at The Balgarth Inn near Provanmill just before midnight. Gail was reduced to observing him from what she considered to be a safe distance, concealed in the undergrowth of a tree belt running along the adjacent railway cutting. Campbell was always dressed in a dinner suit and accompanied by three similarly dressed males. They arrived in the same remarkable black car that had ferried him to Fred Calton’s funeral. Gail couldn’t see who the other men were – the lights from every lamppost in the street were out. The moon appeared every now and again from behind the fastmoving cloud cover, but the only other useful illumination was from occasional car headlights.

The Balgarth had a deserved reputation as a dangerous den of various iniquities. A cabal of feared Glasgow gangsters had owned it, running it as an unlicensed casino and brothel. No one was entirely sure who owned it now, but it was one of the few buildings in Glasgow’s East End that ordinary people crossed the street to avoid walking past. The whole who the fuck ae you lookin’ at? exchange was not one you wanted to have right outside The Balgarth’s frightening lead-lined doors. With the council’s East End slum-clearance policy progressing apace, The Balgarth was now the only remaining structure in the street. The tenements it was once part of were gone. Gail imagined the difficult decisions about its future being deferred by local officials who were far too scared to take them.

Tonight, Gail had left her car parked near the railway station, skirted the tracks, then clambered up the embankment and through a hole in the fence, coming out opposite The Balgarth. She’d gambled on Big Jamesie showing up for a third time, and he did. His car appeared an hour later than on the previous two evenings. Countless other vehicles had already deposited suited gentlemen outside the pub. If it had been a business dinner or a boxing event at The Albany in the city, nothing would’ve been out of place. But these smart men arriving at this bizarre lump of two-storey masonry in this bleak no-man’s land looked as outof-place as Regency diners on an active battlefield.

Gail watched Campbell enter the building. A shaft of light from the front doors, opening to grant him entry. No light spilled from anywhere else; she assumed the windows were boarded over or blacked out. A temporary clearing in the night sky; an ugly, scarred moon shone on Big Jamesie’s driver moving the black car closer to the end of the street. It was likely to be a long night.

She was dozing when a commotion woke her. A group of angry men – dressed in the black of controlled aggression, rather than that donned for a refined function – were chasing a staggering, semi-naked man along the street. He had a decent head start but it looked to Gail like he was injured and they would catch him. He slumped onto the bonnet of the car that had delivered Big Jamesie Campbell to the Balgarth. He clambered inside, and it sped off.

The three bouncers briefly began arguing among themselves before stomping back to the building, where two other men had emerged. When they were within striking distance, four set about the smallest of the initial three. A punch took him down whereupon all kicked relentlessly at his head and torso, until he lay motionless in the road. They went inside and a few moments later another, slighter man, wearing a white overall, came out, picked up the unconscious victim awkwardly by his arms and proceeded to drag him inside. The door slammed shut. Quiet blackness returned. It was a strange scene all round, and Gail had twice wiped her eyes watching it unfold, as if unable to believe that it was happening.

David_F_Ross_001v.jpgAbout the author: David F. Ross was born in Glasgow in 1964 and has lived in Kilmarnock for over thirty years. He is a graduate of the Mackintosh School of Architecture at Glasgow School of Art, an architect by day, and a hilarious social media commentator, author and enabler by night. His most prized possession is a signed Joe Strummer LP. Since the publication of his debut novel The Last Days of Disco, he’s become something of a media celebrity in Scotland, with a signed copy of his book going for £500 at auction, and the German edition has not left the bestseller list since it was published.

Website: http://www.davidfross.co.uk / Twitter: @dfr10

*-the price was taken from Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com on the current date. The price might change at the time of your purchase. The links used in this post for book purchases are affiliates.

 

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