Showing results by author "Ash Ericmore" in All Categories

Edward Smalls got the nickname Sawbones by cutting people up. For a bloke called Robert, who is Eastern European. Now, small time dope pusher Alfred Leonard wants Edward to star in a snuff film. With additional fuckery.

Alex Cole will do anything for money. Murder? Check. Assault? Check. Infanticide? Check. Sexual favors? Double-check. But after getting himself roped into something called Kuman Thong - including its roasted human fetuses - Cole is left fighting unfathomable phenomena beyond his comprehension and rather unexpectedly trying save the world. All for a lousy paycheck.

Sarah and Mia would have been better off leaving the horror show that passes for a carnival when they had the chance. But one falling out with a stabby rapist clown and now they’re in the back of a lorry on their way to who knows where? Murdertown, probably.

Daniel Smalls got the nickname Snuff by being really fucking good at killing people. The guy’s an encyclopaedia of death. He’s having a pint in his local. Hooks up with a chick called Megan. Turns out there’s more to Megan than meets the eye.

Ashley has been taken by Franklin Joyce. Franklin Joyce is a monster. Ashley is having a bad day at the office. Ben is following her, he's even followed her home, and she's not interested. She just wants him to leave her alone. She even hides in the basement car park to catch him at it. Which is the last thing she'll do before Franklin Joyce comes into her life.

Fighting for her life. Rapists. Murderers. And all she has are some kitchen implements. And an axe. "Come hiking," he said. "What could go wrong?" he asked. Poor Angelica just wanted to go to Spain, but Don dragged her here, the Scottish highlands. To the trees, and the hills, and the sadistic inbred family. The insides on the outside. Cooked flesh. That sort of thing. Blood Stain Girl is a novella that some might find distasteful. It has scenes of sex and violence that you may not want to experience.

Alex hates missing person’s cases. Unless they’re easy money. Anything is good when there’s easy money. Then there’s the delivery job. Get a box and hand deliver it to some rich jerk-off. Deal with another private investigator almost as skeezy as himself. And after all that there’s the Event. That’s sure to have a really, really, bad ending.

Simon has recently found a devil on his shoulder. A foul-mouthed murderous little psychopath that insists it is the personification of his self-doubt, and is only there to help. But it’s not. ‘Little Simon’ is borne of chaos. It’s evil. It will kill, and cannibalize, and brutalize. It will do anything to take control of the body and spread its seed, to reproduce. It will take everything Simon has and destroy it. Simon Says is full of brutal violence and weird sex, cheap European lager, and a cold lamb pie which Simon himself suggests has the same mouth feel as pus.

Organization is key. The building needs scouting. Web rooms need creating. Then you need to bait the meat. Take it from on the street without being seen. Get to the shoot. Set the scene. Bring in the talent. Then you can open the room. Let the clients browse. Turn them on. Take their money. Make a profit.

Gordon is an everyday seaside psycho, kidnapping and killing for fun, with a quality torture basement to boot. His latest victim is Jane. Sadly for Gordon, Jane turns out to be a handful of energy. Cosmic energy. And everything is about to go wrong, in the bloodiest way possible. Jane Doe is a novella that some people might find distasteful. Actually, most people might find it distasteful. If you are of a nervous disposition, or have a weak stomach, perhaps you might want to give this one a miss, yes?

Bob Sausage is without moral or virtue. His actions irredeemable. The stories contained within are brutally violent, and very, very, silly.

Nerves shredded, flesh torn, and the milking machine has been turned on… but whatever you do, don’t drink the milk. Lower Crumbsbottom is surrounded by farmland, picturesque and serene. But take a picnic there at your peril. When Richard and Reggie go visiting, they get more than they bargained for. Kidnapped and forced into depraved procreative practices, Richard demands nothing more than to escape. Danny is searching for his brother, and Shirley is riding more than his bike. Then there is Lewis and Maisie, and their children, Anton, Tim, and Jean, who all love each other very much.

The cornerstone of private investigation—insurance fraud. Doing it, obviously. And then there’s the taxi job. Run someone to the airport while being chased by who knows what? Mix that in with drugs, party boats, and the Virgin Mary, and you’ve got a pretty standard day for one Mr. Cole. All for a lousy paycheck. Full of infanticide, evisceration, sadists, and snuff, Alex Cole is part private detective, part mercenary...all sick f--k. Cole Investigations is open—once more—for business.

There’s something evil inside Burns House. Something that watches Matty and Brooke as they take ownership of the old mansion, long of Matty’s blood-line. Something sinister is in the air. As friends and family are unzipped and de-gloved … as limbs are severed … as someone gets really nasty pins and needles … the house’s tormented history will out.

Harold is an old school clowner. Big in the day, they were. Standing on the sides of roads, scaring the normal folk. But it just doesn't work anymore ... not these days. It's all been watered down, and nobody is scared anymore. But Harold wants to bring back the fear. At least, that's what Howdy the Magnificent — the clown that has been resident in Harold's head since his school days, and one particular day where he had a silly little accident balancing on the back feet of his chair — says.

Go forth, they said, and Alex Cole went. Alex is doing it again. What, you might ask? Saving the world, probably. All in the name of getting paid. Part of being a private investigator is making sure the client is safe, and when Alex accidently ends up babysitting a rich and famous (young and sexy) heiress, he’s willing to put everything on the line. His pound of flesh, you might say. But this one is going to cost him more than ever before. All for a lousy pay cheque. Full of … well, all the things you’d expect an Alex Cole book to be full of … Cole Investigations is always open for business.

After Birth is a brutal, gory, and gross novella with no boundary left untouched, no taboo unturned, and contains scenes that might offend with savagery from the onset.

Broken down by drug addiction and unable to connect with the girl he loves, Peter has had enough. Drug-addled and at the point death, he sees an angel. One who shows him the evils in the world and demands he put them right. Kill before they can. Strike down with the vengeful hand of God. Plagued by visions, reality blurring, Peter finds himself no longer able to see the good from the bad, and his own hand of vengeance as much in the mix as the murderers, the rapists, the robbers. Peter becomes the twisted hand of death, until he is more of what he hunts than not.

Hired to skin a baby, get the hair from an eagle, and the eggs from the recently deceased - or something like that, anyway - Cole is back on the case in this, his first standalone novel. In the midst of his governmentally mandated annual psychiatric evaluation (which he’ll pass without question, pfft) Alex finds himself working for a witch, a scorned lover, and a mob boss ... dealing only in absolutes and with the aid of his friend. Roger.

Grace is canvasing for the Green Party. Ugh. Knocking on doors in a clearly conservative road. The first house is a bust, and when the second offers a kindly gent looking for assistance–she can do nothing but offer to help.