• Books

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    [learn_more caption=”Buy Now”]
    [button color=”orange” link=”http://www.amazon.co.uk/Cyber-Circus-Kim-Lakin-Smith/dp/1907069291/ref=tmm_hrd_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1330377183&sr=8-1″]Hardback[/button]
    [button color=”orange” link=”http://www.amazon.co.uk/Cyber-Circus-Kim-Lakin-Smith/dp/1907069305/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1330377183&sr=8-1″]Paperback[/button]
    [button color=”orange” link=”http://www.amazon.co.uk/Cyber-Circus-ebook/dp/B005TLPD6G/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1330377183&sr=8-1″]eBook[/button]
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    Cyber Circus

    1937. Sore Earth, population – 3120 souls.

    Hellequin, last of the HawkEye military elite, is desperate to escape the legacy of Soul Food, the miraculous plant food that leeched the soil, destroyed his family, and instigated a bloody civil war. For a man awaiting the inevitable madness brought on by his enforced biomorph implant, there’s only one choice. Run away with the circus.

    Drifting above a poisoned landscape, Cyber Circus and her exotic acrobats and bioengineered freaks bring a welcome splash of colour into folk’s drab lives. None more so than escaped courtesan turned-dancer Desirous Nim. When Nim’s freedom and her very life are threatened, Hellequin is forced to fight again.

    Shortlisted for BSFA Award 2012 – Best Novel

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    [learn_more caption=”Buy Now”]
    [button color=”orange”]Hardback[/button]
    [button color=”orange”]Paperback[/button]
    [button color=”orange”]eBook[/button][/learn_more]

    Cyber Circus

    ‘Kim Lakin-Smith is not just the real thing she has a real way with words. Cyber Circus is as honestly brutal a twisted cybernetic love story as anything I’ve read. She makes mixing emotion with action and world building look effortless.’ – Jon Courtney Grimwood

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    Cyber Circus

    Chapter 2

    The ladyboy touches down on the apex of a colossal iron scaffold. He curtseys and steps out of view. The lights grow dim. Applause fades out.

    All eyes lift to the ribs of the tent where pearlescent light feeds down to the fibrous mass of the calliope. It breathes. The instrument actually breathes. Folk turn to poke their neighbour and point and nod – they are sure of it. The intricate pipework steams. It speaks to them, the calliope, in a voice that is dry and fluting, its purpose being to distract the crowd from the figures who rush from the wings and unroll thin canvas over the floor of the ring. Hammers chime as Pig Heart’s pitch crew secure the waterproof skin inside the rim of the low wall. They disappear and return moments later, shouldering prisms which they arrange around the outer rim. The calliope sings its strange song. The pitch crew melt back into the shadows…read more…

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    [tabs slidertype=”top tabs”] [tabcontainer] [tabtext]Synopsis[/tabtext] [tabtext]Reviews[/tabtext] [tabtext]Extract[/tabtext] [/tabcontainer] [tabcontent] [tab]

    [learn_more caption=”Buy Now”]
    [button color=”orange” link=”http://www.amazon.co.uk/Tourniquet-Tales-Renegade-Kim-Lakin-Smith/dp/1904853358″]Paperback[/button]
    [button color=”orange” link=”http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/61969″]eBook[/button]
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    Tourniquet

    Tales from Renegade City

    Renegade City. Futurist Gothika. Mecca of the damned. Where uber rock-band, Origin, is deified and the world’s dark sub-cultures coexist under the umbrella faith of ‘Belief’.

    But Roses, the great, Gothic messiah is dead, the tribes are in turmoil, and Renegade’s own home-bred rebels, the Drifters, are quickly becoming a law unto themselves.

    The last thing that Druid, Origin’s drummer and reclusive high lord of the Drathcor, wants to do is hunt his brother’s killer, especially since he’s not so sure of foul play, or even the purity of his motives. Against all of his expectations, however, he is soon embroiled with the underbelly of dissension, dirty politics, and a non-believer as jaded with Renegade’s great and secret show as he is – a black-eyed girl called Jezebel.

    Druid is tasked with saving the whole city. Street punk, Jezebel will settle for saving her brother. Ever since Harish got in touch with his inner-animal and left her with the scars to prove it, she has made it her quest to return him to the fold. One bleak winter’s night, she succeeds in tracking him to the festering Gothic ruin of the south watchtower, home to the very same ghosts that Druid is chasing, and Harish’s new family, a biker’s chapter of Skinwalkers.

    Trouble is, they’re a violent breed. Joining a black parade of freaks, geeks, and greebos, this living god and living-dead girl find their paths interlinked for a series of cataclysmic events that will tear at mutual bonds, unmask fresh hate, and forge new breeds of magick.

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    [learn_more caption=”Buy Now”]
    [button color=”orange” link=”http://www.amazon.co.uk/Tourniquet-Tales-Renegade-Kim-Lakin-Smith/dp/1904853358″]Paperback[/button]
    [button color=”orange” link=”http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/61969″]eBook[/button][/learn_more]

    Tourniquet

    ‘Renegade has the feel of poetry about it, but it is edgy, dangerous stuff. To read it out loud would be less a lyrical waxing than an invocation of something smoky and menacing, adorned with horn and hoof. It is a cloacal, treacly mix of gothic thriller, urban paranoid examination and scarred, black magic treatise.’ – Conrad Williams

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    Tourniquet

    Chapter 3 – Extract

    Kaleidoscopic light lurched and rotated on an axis, paint-balling the walls with exploding, citrus jewels. Music bled up from the floor, sluiced out of the blue, metalveined grid-work overhead, and the sound was colossal, a turbine of lashing growler bass, waspish guitar, electro-glitch and feedback. Druid felt off-kilter and, having lost sight of the kid, utterly alone. His black and flame cowboy boots ate into the cigarette butts, glass, spit, grit, and silver foil underfoot. His nostrils flared, spooling in the scent of girl-sweet and man-sour. His hands, tough-fleshed and bloodless, trailed the small of the back of an undulating stranger, steered a plethora of human obstacles aside, and his only option was to flow with it. Flow with the pain. Flow with the insanity.

    He felt drawn to stay and dissolve into the maelstrom. If he could twist up the volume, maybe he’d stand a hope in hell of drowning out the inner ghosts. Then he spotted the kid, pogoing at the dance floor’s edge, the limp wizard hat performing its own weird ballet over the heads of the crowd. Reality spiralled in. He pressed against the tide of inked chests, nipple-rings and whipping hair and breasts until the glittering mass expelled him in a rush on the far side.

    Beyond the mosh pit’s crush, the air felt icy. Druid pulled his leather close like a shield. He flinched as the mini-wizard vaulted up alongside, face aglow with sweat and smiles.

    …read more…

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