Moreton Island: Paradise for some, a killing ground for others.

Moreton Island lies just one horizon away from Queensland’s capital city Brisbane. It’s so close you can almost touch it! From the air, it’s an idyllic backdrop to sun, surf and sand. You’d never think for a second that this became a scene of the most bizarre and sadistic murder Queensland has ever experienced!
But that’s how this new story goes. Somewhere between the deep blue and the soft sand is the darkest of blacks. It’s adding an insidious twist to its mentor novel SEETHINGS… and the beginning of a second book in the series.
SEETHINGS started it all. It laid the groundwork to giving us the infamous Mitchell Felding and Tony Brindell who took us on a wild ride of psychological debauchery while telling us of their darker pasts. Each had a story to tell. Both kept secrets from their spouses. Now they team up to give us twice the sadism… or do they?
Natasha DeJong may be young but she may be able to change all that. She is the daughter of murdered victim Nina DeJong. She’s attractive and hot for Mitchell. She’s also lured him into a world of lust on the waters of Moreton Bay. Mitchell is taken by her. She looks just like her mother. She tastes like her. She’s every bit the woman he once loved…. but is she also onto to something and finding out who really ended her mother’s life?
Well, this book has been a blast to write. It came a lot easier than the first, taking about three months to get out. I haven’t named it yet. The title will come soon though I’m sure. Currently, it’s in the hands of a beta-reader to check for narrative errors. It will then be re-written, proofed and then corrected. Publishing will happen after that.

This one takes to the sea, using my sailing knowledge to bring my special mix of neo noir erotica to its pages.

I’ve enjoyed revisiting Moreton Bay and the many sailing adventures I’ve had since starting this book. It was almost like taking to the water all over again!
Between 2005 and 2010 I sailed all over the bay. Moreton Island was my favourite place to anchor, Tangalooma most especially. I used to set out late on a Friday afternoon and arrive at the island in the dark. I’d have a pickled pork steaming away in the pressure cooker and it’d be ready by the time I arrived. In the winter, it was the best thing to eat.
Tangalooma was great by day too. I’d order a pizza and a jug of beer for lunch and then sit under one of the thatched umbrellas facing the beach. Sometimes friends from other yachts joined me, sometimes I sat alone and watched the bikini babe’s play volleyball. It didn’t matter what happened at Tangalooma, it was always a great place to visit. I loved being there!
Pizza on the beach. MMMM!
And then Lucinda Bay became a favourite place instead. It’s a bit further south. There’s fewer people there. It’s out of reach of the Tangalooma day tourists. Folks with boats or four-wheel drives often camp there, the latter only having access to it at low tide. 
Yachtie friends of mine would arrive early and I’d come along at night. It was a great thing rafting up alongside another yacht that was little more than a dim anchor light on a black and endless sea. With the VHF radio close by, I’d ask them to flash their top light three times so I could tell their light apart from everyone else’s. Yes, there’d be other white lights. Moreton Island is a big island. Lucinda Bay is a long bay. Picking one light out of forty others wasn’t easy. Some didn’t belong to boats. Some were from campers on the shore. Some were stars.
Boaties using Lucinda Bay for parties.
And then I’d find the right one and raft up to it. “Is that pickled pork?” A friend would ask smelling the air spilling out of the galley. That pressure-cooker was the best idea I had! We soon traded drinks for food and sit and talk about everything and nothing in the bay’s placid waters until late at night.
Lucinda Bay wasn’t always a nice place. There were times when the wind would turn west. That’s when the unprotected water across the bay would rise and fall into an inconvenient rhythm and cause unstowed dishes to clink together in the galley. Another bay south of Lucinda was better for those times when the nasty westerlies arrived.
Shark Spit is the southern boundary of Lucinda Bay. Once a boat goes around that little, almost inconsequential spit of sand, the waters change. Margo and I used to escape there when the westerlies ruined Lucinda. I can recall three occasions when I woke at about 3am and shifted the boat so we could have a restful night’s sleep.
One day we dropped a red bucket into the water at Lucinda Bay totally by accident. I tried to get it back with my gaffa hook but it drifted away too fast. With buckets like that one available at ninety nine cents, we thought to let it go. There were others on-board anyway… but something weird happened with that red bucket of mine. Four hours later it bumped against the side of the boat and we got it back. It had floated directly to us on the return tide!!!!
It got me to thinking about a murder story built around such a tidal current where a body would float away and then float right back to the place it entered the water. If a current was that predictable then any investigation to that murderer might be able to be solved based on simple tide times and local knowledge.
So that’s some of the backstory to this new book. It’ll be available soon and when it is you’ll be able to get it from here.
P.S Proofing this new novel will be the only delay. It may be several weeks away but I thought I’d give you a heads-up
(Author of SEETHINGS)
‘Forman’s writing style is artful, with the protagonist Mitchell’s warped thought processes masterfully exposed. The author has a powerful and vivid command of language and his word pictures are stark and disturbingly real.’  – Linda J Bettenay, author of ‘Secrets Mothers Keep’ and ‘Wishes For Starlight’

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