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Crime Fiction Quotes

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Crime Fiction Quotes

“For one… If you shoot me and your boss realizes it was without good reason, you’ll have fucked up your trial period. And trust me; I know you’re still in it.” Ian pulled open a drawer in a small brown cabinet. “Secondly, it could end very badly for me and I’d rather prevent that. Getting shot is not on my list of things to do today.” He wrapped his hand around the steel grip of his own weapon and removed it from the drawer. “And last but not least, if you plan to shoot me… Well, it’ll be a matter of which of us is quicker and has better aim.” A pleasant smile crossed his features and he casually waved the gun from side to side. “Do you want to risk it?”

FictionCrimeParanormalShort StoryCrime FictionAnthologyShort Story CollectionFlash Fiction
Book:Under the Stairs
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“Nelson is glad to see a handler and her dog coming towards him. The recognises the woman as Jan Adams, famous in Norfolk for having won several medals for bravery. Her dog, a beautiful long-haired German Shepherd is a bit of a celebrity too. What was his name again? "Barney" says Jan in answer to his question. "What's going on?" Nelson explains about the attack. Barney looks at him, head on one side, as if her too might be about to ask a question.”

DogCrime FictionBarneyGerman ShepherdElly GriffithsThe Woman In BlueWalsingham
Book:The Woman in Blue
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“Like many, he’d been watching the country tear itself apart over Brexit and whilst he’d never had any real interest in politics, it was fairly clear that the growing social tension was not only fuelling resentment and division, it was creating a political vacuum. If Billy knew one thing, it’s that any kind of vacuum equalled opportunity and whilst he had no idea how that might manifest itself, he’d suspected that working with the veterans and having a group of lads at his beck and call might well prove advantageous at some point. All he had to do was make sure that whatever form that opportunity might take, he had to be ready to grab it with both hands when the time came.”

SeriesThrillerGangCrime FictionTrilogyCrime ThrillerBrexitPolitical Thriller
Book:In the Know
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“Addiction isn't a moral failure; it’s a societal one. In the ER, I’ve sutured wounds from overdoses and watched schools fail to arm kids against the coming storm. ‘The Lotus Mark: The Pink Lotus’ isn’t fiction. It’s a glitter-coated bullet aimed at apathy. Here’s the truth: Lotus pills don’t just dissolve in your bloodstream. They dissolve families, cities, futures. I wrote this because nurses don’t just heal bodies; we armor souls. And sometimes, that armor is stormtrooper-plated and dripping in defiance. Deanna LaForce RN], ER nurse and author of ‘The Lotus Mark: The Pink Lotus’ (Star Wars cosplay tutorials sold separately).”

Crime FictionPsychological ThrillerMedical ThrillerApocalyptic FictionDystopian HorrorUrban DecaySocietal CollapseAddiction NarrativeBodily HorrorMulti Pov Thriller
Book:The Lotus Mark: The Pink Lotus. A Novella on Addiction and Trafficking Through the Eyes of an ER Nurse
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“Through his opened bedroom window, he noticed that the night sky had turned a crimson red. The moon, punctured by hues of cerulean blue, hung precariously over the withering willow trees that lined the riverbank, located several hundred yards away. The storm predicted by the forecasters was heading his way.”

FictionMurderSeriesConspiracyCrime FictionNoirPrivate InvestigatorHard Boiled DetectiveCartwright
Book:Call of the Nightingale
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“My initial impression of her had been totally wrong. The impression that she was this sweet and stunningly beautiful Vietnamese girl who had survived a difficult time in her life, and was, perhaps, still vulnerable. But, now it was different. She was nothing but a paid whore. It took me a moment to analyze it. Totally against my character, but I realized, if only for a fleeting instant, I wanted to take this whore to bed, even though there would be no spice of pursuit, and it would generate no particular tension between us.”

Murder MysteryCrime FictionPrivate Investigator
Book:Treacherous Estate
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“Jack thinks I take things that’ll cover every eventuality, but I don’t. I only take what’s necessary. When I’m with my family, I bring what will keep them safe. But suppose you’re on your own, like I am now, and something happened to you, and you couldn’t get back, what would you need? What would be important to you? When you think about it like that, it’s surprisingly little. A credit card and a passport; a driving licence. Mini first-aid and wash kits. A decent moisturizer, lipstick and lip balm. It’s surprisingly freeing because, of course, you can’t take what is most important to you: your family and friends. I have photos, though, printed out, not just on a phone. Mobiles are easily lost, aren’t they? And two recipes, the ones I think I couldn’t live without. But all of it, when it comes down to it, is dispensable. Almost everything is.”

Crime FictionThriller NovelsMystery FictionPsychological ThrillersAtlantic BooksSuspense FictionCorvus Books
Book:My Mother's Secret
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“His eyes, staring out at her from the photograph, looked – she searched for another word to describe them and failed – he looked evil. There was a blankness to him, as if the normal human emotions that you took for granted in everyone you met had been excised. It was the kind of stare you might see in a wolf or a shark; a creature who did not care how kind you were, what your story was, the dreams you had for your child.”

Crime FictionThriller NovelsMystery FictionPsychological ThrillersAtlantic BooksSuspense FictionCorvus Books
Book:My Mother's Secret
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“I walk over to see what it is: it’s a paperweight with a dandelion clock perfectly preserved inside. I hold it in my hand. It’s smooth and heavy. It would be just right for my husband. I can imagine it sitting on his desk: a single, solitary objet d’art in the midst of that smooth expanse of wood. As I pay for it, I start to blush, a blush that grows stronger and deeper, flaring over my chest and making my ears burn. I’m buying a present for my husband while I’m with my lover.”

Crime FictionThriller NovelsMystery FictionPsychological ThrillersAtlantic BooksSuspense FictionCorvus Books
Book:My Mother's Secret
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“She emerged between the dunes onto a wide expanse of sand that seemed to stretch endlessly to either side of her: the grey of the sand melded seamlessly into the sea and sky, so that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. The wind hit her with such force, it felt like a living thing. There was nothing between her and Norway.”

Crime FictionThriller NovelsMystery FictionPsychological ThrillersAtlantic BooksSuspense FictionCorvus Books
Book:My Mother's Secret
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“The birds?’ ‘Yes. Brent geese from Svalbard and bar-tailed godwits from the Arctic tundra. Thousands of them, loads of different species. They’ve flown from Scandinavia to spend the winter here. At night, I can hear them honking. Pink-footed geese from Iceland, barnacle geese from Norway. When I lie in bed at night, I imagine I can hear the beat of their wings. Yesterday I walked along the beach. It was clear, for once, and the sun was starting to set. I saw a murmuration of plovers. Hundreds of them, making these strange, unearthly shapes across the sky; the light caught their wings, and the whole flock shone like gold. Every day I think about filling my pockets with stones and walking into the sea. I will aim for Iceland. I will never stop. But then I see a flock of golden plovers wheeling in the sunlight and, for a few brief moments, I forget who I am and why I’m here and what I’ve lost.”

Crime FictionThriller NovelsMystery FictionPsychological ThrillersAtlantic BooksSuspense FictionCorvus Books
Book:My Mother's Secret
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“The birds were starting to leave for Scandinavia and Siberia. Long V shapes trailed across the sky and, at night, flocks of bar-tailed godwits wheeled above the beach. The e icy wind, straight off the Arctic tundra, had abated slightly, and the days were growing longer. One night there was a storm, and in the morning the beach was littered with debris: eel grass torn from the beds around Holy Island, bladderwrack encrusted with barnacles, scraps of fishing net and opaque plastic bottles. The blaze roared, orange and amber and red; sparks danced in the darkening sky. In the distance, the sea pounded on the shore and the wind wheeled about her; a curlew keened, calling like a lost child.”

Crime FictionThriller NovelsMystery FictionPsychological ThrillersAtlantic BooksSuspense FictionCorvus Books
Book:My Mother's Secret
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“She doesn’t like alcohol in cakes. That’s Katie’s thing. And she isn’t into gluten-free or, you know, polenta. She doesn’t think it’s right for cake. Anyway, it’s what poor people eat.’ My dad winces, in spite of his best Dr Seuss face. ‘In developing countries like Mexico, I mean. You have to be middle-class to afford it here.’ That didn’t help. When you get stuck, stick to the facts – that’s what Dad always tells me. ‘She’d like a Victoria sponge with lots of cream and some fruit. Raspberries and jam. Something simple.’ He looks disappointed. I can see he wanted a statement of a cake. Like his love.”

Crime FictionThriller NovelsMystery FictionPsychological ThrillersAtlantic BooksSuspense FictionCorvus Books
Book:My Mother's Secret
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