‘Sharp's first novel, Killer Instinct was a good read, but within the first few pages of Riot Act she surpasses herself. She succeeds in bringing the characters alive and Charlie Fox makes a powerful and attractive heroine. Equally, her other characters work well and she succeeds in creating snappy dialogue and mixing it well with action.
'At times, Riot Act feels slightly reminiscent of Minette Walters' 'Acid Row'. . . (Sharp) takes her Lancashire setting, throws in a great deal of action and creates a fast-paced novel that is guaranteed to build on the reputation created by her debut novel and make her known as an up-and-coming talent in the crime world.' Luke Croll, Murder & Mayhem Book Club
HARD KNOCKS
Charlie Fox book three
by Zoë Sharp
'Perhaps if the army had known what was inside me, what I would eventually turn into, they might not have been so keen to let me go.'
Charlie really didn't care who shot dead her traitorous ex-army comrade Kirk Salter during a bodyguard training course in Germany. But when old flame Sean Meyer asks her to go undercover at Major Gilby's elite school and find out what happened to Kirk she just can't bring herself to refuse.
Keeping her nerve isn't easy when events bring back fears and memories she's worked so hard to forget. It's clear there are secrets at Einsbaden Manor that people are willing to kill to conceal. Some of the students on this particular course seem to have more on their minds than simply learning about close protection. Subjects like revenge, and murder. And what's the connection between the school and the recent spate of vicious kidnappings that have left a trail of bodies halfway across Europe?
To find out what's going on, Charlie must face up to her past and move quickly before she becomes the next casualty. She expected training to be tough, but can she graduate from this school of hard knocks alive?
'If you only know Charlie Fox from First Drop, Second Shot, and Third Strike, you don't know Charlie. What you've got in your hands is a rare and special treat. It’s like finding some lost Jack Reacher novel or a couple of non-alphabet Kinsey Millhones that nobody knew existed. Don't let anyone tear it from your hands without drawing their blood.
'These early Zoë Sharp books haven’t been a secret, but they've been harder-to-get than Charlie Fox in your bed. Think of these as the early years of Charlie Fox – she’s lethal and relentless, but still raw from the military experience that made her the kick-ass, take-no-prisoners bodyguard that she’s become.
'But there’s more going on in these books than breakneck action and adventure. Charlie has heart, maybe too much for a woman in her profession . . . and it’s that caring, that humanity, that makes her much more than a killer babe on a motorbike. These books are your chance to discover Charlie Fox as she discovers herself, her strengths and her weaknesses, and sustains the scars to her body and soul that make her such a unique and compelling character.' US crime author and TV producer, Lee Goldberg
ROAD KILL
Charlie Fox book five
by Zoë Sharp
“If you stay involved with Sean Meyer you will end up killing again,” my father said. “And next time, Charlotte, you might not get away with it.”
Still bearing the emotional scars from her traumatic first bodyguarding job in the States, Charlie Fox returns to her former home to try and work out both her personal and professional future.
Instead of the peace for which she's been hoping, Charlie is immediately caught up in the aftermath of a fatal bike crash involving one of her closest friends. The more she probes, the more she suspects that the accident was far from accidental – and the more she finds herself relying on the support of her troubled boss, Sean Meyer, despite her misgivings over the wisdom of resuming their relationship.
And Charlie's got enough on her plate trying to work out who suddenly wants her dead. The only way to find out is to infiltrate a group of illegal road racers who appear hell-bent on living fast and dying young.
Taking risks is something that ex-Special Forces soldier Charlie knows all about, but doing it just for kicks seems like asking for trouble. By the time she finds out what's really at stake, she might be too late to stop them all becoming road kill . . .
‘After the traumatic events that took place in First Drop, Charlie Fox is back in England to recuperate. But then an old friend is seriously injured after a motorbike accident (that kills the driver) and Charlie's lethal instincts kick in to find out what the real story is, and who the true target was. It's really quite impossible to put this book down, but what really makes this (and the whole series) shine is how Charlie's kickass skills are rooted in her own femininity and character. So why might this not be published in the US? "Too British." More like too bad if it proves to be the case.’ Sarah Weinman, Confessions of an Idiosyncratic Mind
ROAD KILL: Charlie Fox book five
excerpt
part of Chapter Thirteen
. . . My parent’s house, on the outskirts of a little village near Alderley Edge, was a gracefully proportioned Georgian pile with a stiflingly manicured walled garden at the back and impressive circular gravel drive at the front.
They’ve lived there since they were married, before the area went stratospheric and all the celebrity Manchester United footballers moved in. My mother pretends to sneer but I suspect that she’s secretly as smitten by their glamour as everyone else.
We arrived a little before eleven o’clock. Early enough that my mother’s beautiful manners didn’t oblige her to invite Sean to stay to lunch. Her barely concealed relief, when he apologised that he didn’t even have the time to come in for a cup of tea, might have been funny if it hadn’t been so pathetic.
Sean deposited the rucksack containing my bike gear on the old church pew in the tiled hallway and laid a hand on my arm.
“Take care of yourself, Charlie,” he murmured.
“Yeah, you too.”
“I’ll try and get back up again before the weekend.” Undoubtedly aware that my mother was hovering in the doorway at the end of the hall, he bent his head and kissed me, no more than a fleeting brush of his lips. “And remember what I said.”
“Which bit?” I asked, suddenly a little breathless and stupid from the effects of even so ephemeral a contact.
He smiled, a full-blown knock-you-off-your-feet kind of smile. One that had my heart turning somersaults and made me want to beg him either to stay, or to take me with him. Hell, or just to take me.
“All of it,” he said.
Then he walked out of the front door and climbed into the Shogun without looking back. I watched him turn out of the gateway at the end of the drive and disappear from view before I closed the door. I turned to find my mother had moved up into the hall, as though it was safe to venture closer now he’d gone. She was wearing pearls and a summer dress with an apron over the top of it, and wiping flour from her hands on a tea towel.
“You’ll stay for lunch, Charlotte, won’t you?” she said and although her voice was coolly gracious there was something a little despairing in her eyes.