By Peter Pavia
3 days out of felony and attempting to remain at the correct facet of the legislations, Harry Healy doesn’t actually need to become involved with Manfred Pfiser’s drug bargains. yet he wishes the cash – so he is of the same opinion to make one basic delivery.
basic, that's, until Harry stumbles throughout a lifeless physique, the results of a theft cooked up through an previous cellmate of his including a former highschool baseball famous person, a trigger-happy sociopath, and a seashore bunny who can’t appear to continue her garments on.
Now they’re all at the run – from the Miami police, from the drug kingpins they ripped off, and from every one other…
* First booklet anywhere
* writer of The Cuba venture and co-author of the opposite Hollywood with mythical punk journalist Legs McNeil
* the recent York submit on DUTCH UNCLE: "In real pulp culture, Pavia has created a whirlwind journey of homicide, mayhem, and a few very nasty criminals."
* Crime Scene Scotland on DUTCH UNCLE: "A amazing first novel...continuing demanding Case Crime's thus far uninterrupted run of excellence."
* January journal on DUTCH UNCLE: "One of the more energizing, brighter voices within the hard-boiled style today...This dude is rough-riding over his personal model of storytelling, and he accomplishes in 256 pages what many authors fail to do in 450."
"Anyone who likes Elmore Leonard and Carl Hiaasen must detect Peter Pavia. He’s that good."
— Lawrence Hughes, former CEO of William Morrow & Avon Books
"An super awesome debut...You couldn’t ask for larger, or even in the event you did, you’d most likely by no means locate it. DUTCH UNCLE, and Pavia, have to be in your must-read list."
— The ebook Report
"One hell of an excellent read...Do yourselves a desire and get in at the begin of what's going to be one fast-rising career."
— Ron Fortier, Paperback Bazaar
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Additional resources for Dutch Uncle
Holding on for her life, before it slipped away entirely, in falls and headaches and the horrifying sense of sliding away into insanity. All the bad things simply . . stopped. Her taut muscles loosened, her eyes closed, her nose was buried in a sweater that smelled of fabric softener and man, with a faint tang of smoke. She was being held tightly, engulfed in strong arms and warmth and her mind simply blanked. She was so used to the background buzz of anxiety and fear in her head, a constant hiss of static tinged with darkness, that she simply blissed out at its absence.
Interested. ” It had been so long since she‟d felt anything like this, since she‟d been part of that whole manwoman thing. Her only contact with men over the past nine months had been with doctors and physical therapists, then lawyers as she settled her father‟s estate. She‟d nearly forgotten that she was a woman. Daniel Weston made her feel female once again. She felt a connection to him and even though it was probably a sign of her craziness, because the connection was in her dreams, right at this moment she didn‟t feel cold and alone and listless, which had been her default emotional setting for more time than she cared to think about.
He touched his baseball cap with his index finger in a salute, then took off with a squeal of t ires, leaving her completely alone on the deserted street. The trip had been such a nightmare. She‟d regretted it the moment she‟d left the house in the pouring rain. The taxi had got caught in a jam due to the sudden downpour, tipping her out at departures barely in time to make it to the gate. Two huge Airbuses were boarding and the gates were crowded with far more passengers than the relatively small Tampa airport was equipped to handle.