Venice Just Hides Them Better

Most people visit Venice for romance.

Gondolas drifting through narrow canals.
Opera echoing across old stone streets.
The comforting fantasy that Venice exists outside the real world—untouched by consequence, decay, or violence.

It’s beautiful.

It’s theatrical.

And it’s very good at hiding what’s really happening underneath the surface.

Crowds Make People Invisible

The Vogalonga floods Venice with movement.

Boats cut through crowded canals.
Tourists fill the streets.
Music spills from restaurants while the city performs its usual magic trick—making chaos look elegant.

In Sinister Little Serenade, Marin arrives with one objective.

Assassinate former CIA asset Giovanni Malvetti.

One shot.
One body in the water.
One clean disappearance beneath the noise and spectacle of Venice’s biggest rowing event.

Professional.

At least, that was the plan.

Jane Never Keeps Things Simple

Jane calls them competency tests.

Marin calls them deeply irritating.

What should have been a straightforward hit quickly spirals into something far messier as Jane introduces one more complication into the assignment—because apparently surviving impossible situations builds character.

Now Marin is racing through opera houses, vanishing down alleyways, and trying not to get cornered while half of Italy’s law enforcement closes in around her.

And Venice suddenly feels much smaller than it did before.

Romance Looks Different at Knife Point

Venice likes to sell the idea of elegance.

Soft music.
Moonlight on water.
Beautiful people pretending danger belongs somewhere else.

Sinister Little Serenade tears straight through that illusion.

Because underneath all the romance and performance, Venice is still a maze.

And mazes are excellent places to hunt someone.

Or be hunted yourself.

If you like your thrillers sharp, stylish, and laced with chaos… if you prefer your assassins competent, dangerous, and one bad decision away from disaster…

This one’s for you.

Sinister Little Serenade is available now!

Because every beautiful city has teeth.

Venice just hides the bite marks better. 

Loud. Bright. Impossible to Ignore.

Most people celebrate Cinco de Mayo with tequila, music, and crowded streets.

Mariachi bands. Clinking glasses. The kind of energy that makes everything feel bigger, brighter, and just a little out of control.

It’s loud on purpose.

Because noise is distracting.

And distraction is useful.

Noise Makes Excellent Cover

Crowds blur together. Faces disappear. Attention shifts to the spectacle instead of what’s happening underneath it.

In Lethal Little Tequila, Marin arrives in Puebla with a job that’s anything but subtle.

Her target is Esteban “El Alacrán” Montoya.

A cartel boss who built his reputation on fear, violence, and the assumption that no one would ever challenge him in his own territory.

He’s wrong.

Some Messages Need to Be Public

This isn’t a quiet hit.

It’s not meant to be.

The job is to make it visible. Painful. Unmistakable.

Because sometimes killing someone isn’t enough.

Sometimes you need everyone watching to understand exactly what it means.

When the Past Walks Back In

Complications are part of the job.

But some are harder to ignore than others.

Camille Noir wasn’t supposed to be there.

Last time they crossed paths, she walked away thinking Marin was broken.

She was wrong.

Now the job isn’t just about Montoya.

It’s about unfinished business.

And Marin doesn’t leave things unfinished.

Celebration Doesn’t Make You Safe

Cinco de Mayo thrives on energy. 

On movement. 

On chaos dressed up as celebration.

But noise doesn’t protect you.

Crowds don’t shield you.

And a party doesn’t stop consequences from catching up.

Lethal Little Tequila leans into that moment—when celebration becomes cover, and cover becomes opportunity.

Because in the middle of all that noise, the only thing that really matters…is who walks away.

If you like your thrillers fast, explosive, and just a little unhinged… if you prefer your justice loud, personal, and impossible to ignore…

This one’s for you.

Have a shot of Lethal Little Tequila Now!

Because sometimes the message isn’t the kill.

It’s how publicly you make it.

It’s a Warning

Most people treat Workers’ Day like a statement.

Marches.
Chants.
Signs held high in the belief that if enough voices rise together, something might finally change.

It’s visible.
It’s loud.

And most of the time… it’s ignored.

Pressure Builds Long Before It Breaks

By the time people take to the streets, the damage is already done.

Jobs cut.
Lives disrupted.
Entire communities are treated like expendable numbers on someone else’s balance sheet.

In Brutal Little Uprising, Paris isn’t celebrating.

It’s choking.

Tear gas hangs in the air.
Barricades burn.
And a workforce pushed too far is finally pushing back.

But while the city fights for survival, one man sits above it all.

Power Doesn’t Bleed Unless You Make It

Étienne Varese isn’t in the streets.

He doesn’t need to be.

He cuts jobs.
Replaces workers.
Profits from instability while other people pay the price.

To the world, he’s untouchable.

To Jane… this one’s personal.

And that makes him Marin’s problem.

When the System Protects the Wrong People

The plan is simple.

Get close at an exclusive dinner at the Ritz.
Play the part.
Make his death hurt.

Clean. Controlled.

Except nothing about this night stays that way.

Outside, the city is burning.

Inside, control is slipping.

Marin makes sure it doesn’t recover.

Uprisings Don’t Ask Politely

There’s a reason protests turn into something more.

Because eventually, people realise that being heard isn’t the same as being listened to.

Brutal Little Uprising leans into that moment.

The point where pressure becomes action.
Where anger stops asking and starts taking.

Because some systems don’t change.

They collapse.

If you like your thrillers sharp, political, and unapologetic… if you prefer your justice loud, messy, and impossible to ignore…

This one’s for you.

Brutal Little Uprising is out now!

Because when the pressure builds high enough, something always breaks.

The only question is…what.

Soft. Sweet. Safe.

Most people spend Easter hunting for chocolate eggs.

Pastel colours.
Family lunches.
The comforting idea that this is one of the gentler celebrations on the calendar.

Nothing sharp.
Nothing dangerous.
Nothing that bites back.

It’s a nice illusion.

Nature Doesn’t Care About Your Illusions

Step outside the curated version of Easter, and things look very different.

Nature isn’t soft.
It isn’t kind.
And it definitely isn’t safe.

Everything hunts.
Everything runs.
Everything fights to survive.

Predators don’t ask permission.
And prey doesn’t get a second chance.

In Killer Little Bunny, Marin steps into that world with a simple objective.

Her target is Hugh Atwater.

A man who calls himself a great white hunter.
A man with too much money, a taste for endangered species, and the kind of entitlement that assumes the world exists for his amusement.

When the Hunter Becomes the Target

Atwater sees himself as the apex predator.

The kind of man who takes what he wants, kills what he wants, and never expects consequences.

Men like that usually don’t.

Marin’s job is to change that.

End him.
Make it messy.
And make sure the blame lands anywhere but where it belongs.

Simple.

Except this time, Marin isn’t the only predator in play.

Because the wild doesn’t belong to men like Atwater.
And neither do the people who live in it.

Out here, everything he thought he controlled is turning against him.

Easter Was Never This Innocent

Easter likes to pretend the world is soft.

That danger can be wrapped in pastel colours and hidden behind chocolate and tradition.

Killer Little Bunny doesn’t buy into that.

Because predators don’t disappear just because the calendar says they should.

They adapt.
They hide.
They keep hunting.

And sometimes, the only way to stop them…is to become something worse.

If you like your thrillers fast, sharp, and just a little feral… if you prefer your justice brutal and your villains very, very mortal…

This one’s for you.

Killer Little Bunny is out now!

Because in the wild, there’s no such thing as harmless.

Only predators.

And prey… that learned to fight back.

And Some People Die Believing In It

Most people spend St. Patrick’s Day chasing luck.

Green everywhere.
Four-leaf clovers.
Pints raised to the comforting idea that fortune favours the bold—or at least by those drunk enough to believe it does.

It’s a nice story.

But unfortunately, luck has a body count.

Chaos Doesn’t Care About Your Plans

St. Patrick’s Day turns cities like Dublin into something else entirely.

Crowds spill into the streets.
Music blares from every doorway.
Strangers become friends for a night, united by alcohol, bad decisions, and the belief that nothing too serious can happen in the middle of a celebration.

It’s loud.
It’s unpredictable.

And it’s the perfect place for things to go very, very wrong.

In Bloody Little Clover, Marin arrives in Dublin for what should be a routine job.

One clean kill.
A quiet exit.

Simple.

Until it isn’t.

When the Job Turns on You

The ambush comes fast.

Clean becomes messy.
Controlled becomes chaos.

And suddenly Marin isn’t just executing a contract—she’s fighting to stay alive in a city that’s swallowing the evidence as fast as she can create it.

Because this time, the problem isn’t the target.

It’s the growing suspicion that Marin was never meant to walk away.

Someone set her up.

And in a city drunk on celebration, where bodies can disappear into crowds, and no one looks too closely at the aftermath, that’s a very convenient mistake to make.

Luck Won’t Save You

There’s a reason people believe in luck.
It’s easier than admitting the truth.

That luck is fickle.
That it doesn’t choose sides.
That hoping it swings your way doesn’t mean it will.

Bloody Little Clover doesn’t pretend otherwise.

Because luck doesn’t protect you.
Luck doesn’t warn you.
And luck sure as hell doesn’t save you when the knife is already coming down.

If you like your thrillers fast, brutal, and laced with betrayal… if you prefer your heroes dangerous and your victories hard-earned…

This one’s for you.

Bloody Little Clover is out now!

Because when everything goes to hell, luck isn’t what gets you out alive.

Being dangerous does.

And Fire Has Always Been Meant for Demons

Most people come to Jaipur for the Pink City’s architecture, spiritual heritage, and riotous colour.

For one night, the entire city seems to glow.

Bonfires roar into life as crowds gather for Holika Dahan, cheering as demon effigies are thrown into the flames. It’s a ritual that goes back centuries—burn the evil, celebrate the triumph of good, and welcome the spring with colour and joy.

It’s a comforting idea.

Unfortunately, the real demons rarely volunteer for the fire.

It’s loud.
It’s beautiful.
It’s cathartic.

It’s also excellent cover for settling accounts with the sort of men who should have burned a long time ago.

Spectacle Is Useful

Festivals create noise.

Crowds surge through narrow streets. Firelight dances across temple walls. Tourists lift their phones while locals celebrate a ritual older than most nations.

And when everyone is watching the spectacle, very few people notice what’s happening behind the scenes.

In Savage Little Saffron, Marin arrives in Jaipur for a job.

Her target is billionaire Arjun Rathore.

To the world, he’s a philanthropist and cultural patron—a man who funds schools for girls, sponsors festivals, and hosts lavish Holi celebrations for the wealthy elite.

A generous man.
A respected man.

The sort of man no one thinks to question.

When Monsters Hide Behind Respectability

Rathore’s reputation is carefully constructed.

Behind it lies something far darker.

He has built an empire on the suffering of girls who have no power and no protection.

Money moves quietly.

Influence closes doors.

And the men who attend Rathore’s private parties believe their wealth makes them untouchable.

They’re wrong.

Marin’s job is simple on paper: attend Rathore’s invitation-only Holi celebration—a spectacle of silk, champagne, colour, and carefully curated excess—and reach the man at the centre of it all.

End him before the fires burn out.

Jane withholds only one detail—the identity of Marin’s contact in Jaipur.

“You’ll know them when you see them,” she says.

When Marin does, it becomes clear this job isn’t just about killing a monster.

It’s about protecting the people who survived him.

Because sometimes a hit isn’t just about eliminating a target.

Sometimes it’s about making sure the innocent walk away.

Holi Has Always Been About Burning Demons

The symbolism of Holika Dahan is simple.

Evil burns.
Justice survives.
The world begins again.

Savage Little Saffron takes that idea and pushes it into darker territory—a world where wealth protects monsters, secrets hide behind philanthropy, and the only way to stop some men is to make sure they never see the sunrise.

If you like your thrillers sharp, political, and unapologetic… if you prefer your justice swift and your villains very flammable…

This one’s for you.

Savage Little Saffron is out now

Because when the fire is finally lit, the real question isn’t if the demons burn.

It’s whether anyone is brave enough to throw them into the flames.

And Spectacle Is a Convenient Distraction

Most people head to New Orleans for jazz, bourbon, and beads.

Music in the streets.
Masks that promise anonymity.
A city that thrives on excess.

But this year, the celebration collides with something heavier.

Protests flood the French Quarter.
Tear gas hangs in the air.
Crowds chant against detention, against authoritarian overreach, against systems designed to make people disappear quietly.

Mardi Gras isn’t just a party.

It’s a fault line.

Power Prefers Noise

In Profitable Little Pageant, the target isn’t just corrupt. He’s strategic.

Elliot Warren Caldwell has built an empire by turning detention into profit—off-the-books facilities hidden in the Louisiana backcountry, where accountability is as scarce as dry land.

While the streets rage and cameras focus on clashes in the Quarter, Caldwell operates behind concrete walls and private security.

Above ground: spectacle.
Below ground: infrastructure.

And infrastructure is harder to dismantle.

The Swamp Doesn’t Care About Optics

Beyond the city limits, the music continues—but for a different audience.

Inside Caldwell’s private compound, guards drink. Systems hum. The party becomes insulation.

An alligator named Dundee patrols the perimeter—a reminder that escape isn’t part of the design.

Power believes it’s untouchable when it’s remote enough.

Marin disagrees.

When Corruption Dresses Like Celebration

Profitable Little Pageant isn’t just about Mardi Gras.

It’s about what happens when excess meets exploitation.
When celebration masks cruelty.
When someone decides that human beings are a revenue stream.

If that feels uncomfortably close to reality… it should.

Profitable Little Pageant is available Now

Because the most dangerous place isn’t the street.
It’s the room you thought was soundproof.

And Love Is the Most Dangerous Illusion of All

Most people treat Valentine’s Day like a promise.

Romance.
Intimacy.
Proof that love is something you can package, schedule, and survive.

Roses, chocolates, candlelight, and the comforting belief that tonight will end the way it’s supposed to.

But Valentine’s Day is also crowded. Emotional. Distracting. A night when people lower their guard because they’re busy trying to feel something.

Which makes it perfect cover for violence.

Love Makes People Sloppy

There’s something about Valentine’s Day that encourages bad decisions.

People drink too much. They trust the wrong person. They assume the evening will end with dessert and love—never bloodshed.

That’s the world Deadly Little Valentine steps into—a holiday built on expectation, entitlement, and the idea that the night is supposed to go a certain way.

Marin doesn’t believe in that illusion.

Roses, Chocolates, and a Tech Billionaire with a God Complex

Most people spend Valentine’s Day with flowers and overpriced tasting menus.

Marin spends hers dodging bullets and slicing up billionaires.

Her target this time? A tech mogul with a god complex and enough buried sins to keep an investigative journalist busy for years. On paper, it should be a clean job. In reality, nothing ever is.

There are lies stacked on lies. A wife living on borrowed time. An ex who would happily put Marin in the ground. And a midnight swim that could go catastrophically wrong.

Romantic? Definitely not.

But very on brand for a bloody Valentine’s Day.

Anti-Romance, Sharp Edges, and No Apologies

In Deadly Little Valentine, Marin’s client isn’t looking for romance or closure.
She’s looking to survive.

Love has already failed. Valentine’s Day just happens to be when the bill comes due.

It’s about:

• Anti-romance vibes
• Snark sharpened into a weapon
• A heroine who doesn’t break hearts—she stops them cold

It’s for readers who side-eye Valentine’s Day, who enjoy thrillers with teeth, and who don’t need a happily-ever-after wrapped in pink paper.

Sometimes the perfect match is a blade straight to the heart.

If Valentine’s Day Makes You Uncomfortable, You’re Not Wrong

There’s a reason so many thrillers, horror stories, and dark romances circle holidays.

Celebrations are pressure cookers. They magnify expectation—and when expectation collapses, things get messy.

Deadly Little Valentine leans into that mess.

If roses and chocolates make you itch, if forced romance leaves a bad taste in your mouth, if Valentine’s Day feels like a performance, or if you’d rather spend Valentine’s Day with a sharp, unapologetic thriller, Marin has you covered.

 Deadly Little Valentine is available now

Because love isn’t always soft.
And Valentine’s Day is never as harmless as it pretends to be.

And Other Dangerous Things We Tell Ourselves at Midnight

Most people treat New Year’s Eve like a promise.

A reset.
A clean slate.
Champagne, fireworks, kisses at midnight, and the comforting belief that when the clock rolls over, something fundamental changes.

It doesn’t.

New Year’s Eve isn’t about beginnings. It’s about denial—loud, glittering denial, wrapped in ritual and noise. Cities flood with people who think rules have loosened, that consequences are taking the night off, and that tomorrow will deal with whatever spills over.

Which makes it a very good night for violence.

Celebrations don’t stop bad things from happening. They hide them. They drown out sound, fracture attention, and give intent somewhere to disappear. Midnight doesn’t cleanse the world. It just gives it better cover.

And if you’re paying attention, New Year’s Eve has always been one of the most dangerous nights on the calendar.

Why Celebrations Are Perfect Cover

Large-scale celebrations follow predictable patterns. Crowds surge and scatter. Security is visible but overstretched. Everyone is watching the same thing at the same time—fireworks, countdowns, spectacle—while everything else slips into the margins.

New Year’s Eve is especially good at this.

It’s transitional. Liminal. People behave as if they’re briefly untethered from consequence. The world feels suspended between “what was” and “what’s coming next,” and that pause is where mistakes—and opportunities—multiply.

If you wanted to vanish into a city, you could do worse than New Year’s Eve at midnight.

Marin Has Always Known This

Marin doesn’t believe in fresh starts. She believes in timing.

Across her assignments, the pattern is consistent: she operates best when the world is distracted by ritual. Valentine’s Day turns intimacy into camouflage. St Patrick’s Day drowns streets in noise and drunken chaos. Easter wraps violence in innocence. Cinco de Mayo hides intent behind celebration and nationalism.

Different holidays. Same principle.

When everyone else is celebrating, Marin is working.

New Year’s Eve isn’t an exception to that pattern—it’s the culmination of it.

Vienna, Midnight, and a Palace Full of Lies

Wicked Little Waltz drops Marin into Vienna on New Year’s Eve, dressed in silk, armed with intent, and hunting a man who believes he’s untouchable.

Dmitri Karpin is a war criminal with diplomatic immunity and a talent for surviving while others don’t. The plan is simple: a palace ball, a clean hit, disappear before the fireworks fade.

Of course, nothing ever stays simple.

As Vienna celebrates in denial and glitter, the job fractures. Karpin runs. Rival killers surface. The night turns into a chase through waltzes, nightclubs, and packed streets where everyone is counting down to midnight and no one is watching closely enough.

That’s the danger of New Year’s Eve. Everyone believes the night belongs to hope. Marin knows it belongs to endings.

Midnight Isn’t Magic. It’s a Deadline.

There’s a particular cruelty to New Year’s Eve: the belief that time itself will do the work for us. That if we just make it to midnight, something will reset. Guilt, consequences, unfinished business—left behind with the old year.

It never works that way.

In Wicked Little Waltz, midnight isn’t a wish. It’s a line in the sand. Someone isn’t supposed to see the new year. And whether that happens cleanly or catastrophically depends on choices made while the city is looking the other way.

Fireworks explode. Music swells. Glasses clink.

And somewhere in the noise, a body drops.

Why This Story Had to End the Year

This isn’t a New Year’s story because it’s festive. It’s a New Year’s story because it understands the lie at the heart of the celebration.

The lie that endings are painless.
The lie that tomorrow fixes what today refuses to face.
The lie that survival equals absolution.

Marin doesn’t buy any of that.

She operates in the margins—between countdowns, behind velvet curtains, under cover of music and light. Vienna’s elegance doesn’t soften the violence. It sharpens it. Silk hides weapons. Glamour distracts witnesses. Midnight becomes a moment people remember fondly, even if they shouldn’t.

A Year Ends. The Pattern Continues.

New Year’s Eve isn’t special because it changes anything. It’s special because it pretends to.

That pretence—the belief in clean breaks and fresh starts—is what makes nights like this dangerous. It’s why celebrations keep showing up as fault lines in Marin’s work. Not because they’re chaotic, but because they’re controlled chaos. Predictable. Exploitable.

This blog will keep returning to those moments throughout the year. Not to celebrate them, but to examine them. To look at what happens when ritual collides with intent, and violence slips through the cracks.

Tonight, the year ends. The fireworks will fade. The champagne will go flat.

And somewhere in Vienna, a man who believes he’s untouchable is mistaken. His time is up—he just hasn’t realised it yet.

Wicked Little Waltz is available now.
New Year’s Eve is about endings.
Marin is very good at those.

I haven’t interviewed another author here in a while and thought it was time I started doing that again. So, today, I’d like to introduce you to fellow South African and USA Today Bestselling author N Gray, who also writes as Natalie Michaels. The Last Girl is her latest release as Natalie Michaels. It’s also the very first novel she wrote in 2017, but because she was still very new to writing, she didn’t publish it until now after a rewrite. She’s busy writing book 2 in the same series, which will be released in May 2024. 

And now, for your reading pleasure, here’s a short extract from The Last Girl.

1987

The Cabin

Jacob

The quiet evening pierced my ears. Carefully, I climbed out of the water and onto the wooden deck without making a sound. I exhaled silently as I monitored the couple fast asleep in the boat. Tiptoeing on the wooden deck, I was careful not to stand on a creaking plank and when I reached the door, Katie stirred in the boat, mumbling someone’s name. I opened the door, testing to ensure it didn’t moan the wider I opened it, and slipped out.

I traversed the dark path to the house and entered. Leaving the lights off, I navigated my way around the living room, kitchen, until finally upstairs. I entered the main bedroom and found his suitcase again. Flipping through his wallet, I found what I was looking for and headed back down to the kitchen. Their food remained on the counter, waiting for them to enjoy, and I opened the pantry door.

Once done, I slipped out the front door and found a place hidden in shadows where I could see most of the house and waited. I heard cars driving on the ID-75 entering and exiting Ketchum and was grateful they were a distance away and wouldn’t see me or my vehicle from the road.

It was ten at night by the time Katie and her friend staggered up the path, switching on lights as they entered the house and headed for the kitchen. Katie warmed their dinner while her friend sat at the table, waiting for her to serve him.

The itch at the back of my neck started up again, but I didn’t scratch. I just rubbed the offending area and waited.

Katie dished food onto their plates and sat beside him. My body heated as I watched him eat. All was fine for a few seconds and then… he grabbed his throat. His eyes widened in horror. Red blotches formed on his face and neck. His face started swelling, along with one side of his neck. He pushed away from the table, stood up, then doubled over as if trying to expel whatever was lodged in his throat.

Katie was there to slap him on his back, but nothing helped.

Nothing would help him.

The man pointed to the stairs and then to his neck. Katie nodded and frantically ran upstairs.

Moments later, she returned, shaking her head. “There’s nothing there,” she cried.

Shock flashed in his eyes. He collapsed onto his knees, then fell on his chest and face, unmoving.

Katie dashed around, looking for something, but there was nothing that could help him. She fell to her knees and moved him onto his back so she could proceed with CPR, but his throat had already closed, shutting off all his air supply.

From where I stood, his face and neck had swollen to the point where his cheeks were red, round and puffy, and his eyes had bulged. While his fat lips had started turning purple.

After about ten minutes, Katie sat back on her haunches, crying into her hands.

I dropped the epinephrine injection on the ground and crushed it with my boot heel. Pushing through the branches, I approached the cabin with purpose and entered through the front door.

Katie flinched when she saw me and stood up. “Jacob, what are you doing here?” she asked, glancing nervously at me and then at her friend on the floor.

“I thought you might need some help,” I said mysteriously and crossed the threshold. My clothing was still damp, and I left wet marks everywhere I stepped.

Katie backed up, glancing at me and the body. “We need to call for help,” she stammered, “could you—”

“No,” I yelled, shutting her up. “No more, Katie,” I snapped. “You’ve been playing me for years. No more.” I pulled the box out of my pocket and placed it gently on the counter. “I’ve had this for a while, waiting for the right moment to give it to you. To ask for your hand in marriage. Ever since that day in the barn, I’ve loved you more than anything else. I would’ve given you the world, anything, and everything you ever wanted. But,” I paused for effect and stared into her sad, blue eyes, “you’ve made it perfectly clear where I stand with you.”

Get The Last Girl on Amazon

Interview with N Gray

• When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer?

I was ten. I wrote my first short story on my mom’s old typewriter. Since then, I’ve have always wanted to write. Life happened, I started my first job, then in 2014 I started writing more and read up on self-publishing. When I saw how many authors self-published, I knew I had to try.

• How long does it take you to write a book?

My first full length novel, Ulysses Exposed, took ten days to write. I got the idea after I wrote Creature Features (a collection of short stories) and wrote every minute I had. But I didn’t publish it immediately. I left it for a month and started writing Voodoo Priest.

Before it took me about a month to write a book, but these days due to work commitments, it takes me about two-three months.  

• What is your work schedule like when you’re writing?

I still have a day job; I’m an analyst for a medical insurance company in South Africa. So, I only get to write in the early mornings and over weekends.

• What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?

I’m a panster and only have a broad outline for the current story I’m working on and for the overall series. When I sit and write, the words flow naturally. If I have to plan everything beforehand, I get bored, and the story won’t get written.
I also have to listen to music.

• When did you write your first book, and how old were you?

My first short story was when I was ten. But my first published book was only in 2017; a collection of short stories (horror). I was thirty-seven.

• What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

I live near the beach and try to go for a walk as often as I can. I also paint, build puzzles, and draw.  

• What does your family think of your writing?

Everyone has been very supportive. I haven’t embarrassed them—yet.

• What was one of the most surprising things you learned in creating your books?

How difficult it is. Writing the book is the easy part—it’s what comes afterwards that’s hard. There are so many things to remember that you need a long checklist before you can hit that publish button.

• How many books have you written? Which is your favourite?

I’ve published 28 books under 3 pen names.

I have a lot of favourites, but I enjoyed writing Lady Hawke and her Mountain Man, Deadly Pattern, Lady Killer, and my most recent one, The Last Girl.

• Why do you write under 3 pen names?

When I first started writing and publishing, I did so under one pen name: N Gray. But then I realized that it’s best to write one genre per pen name so that one doesn’t confuse the algorithm. I now have a pen name for my romantic horrors (SD Syns), Natalie Michaels for my thrillers, and will keep N Gray for my urban fantasy and paranormal romance books.

• Do you hear from your readers much? What kinds of things do they say?

I’ve had a few emails from readers who tell me how much they love my series and they have bought all my books. It was very heartwarming to receive.

I like to engage with them and hear what they think.

• What do you think makes a good story?

Interesting characters, a plot twist, conflict, and a splash of romance. I also like a little horror in my stories or something that’s creepy. I like to keep readers on their toes. 

• As a child, what did you want to do when you grew up?

To write and travel around the world.

N Gray also has an online bookshop where readers can buy directly from her and is offering a special 25% discount to my readers who buy directly from her when you use this discount code at checkout: GET25%OFF

Shop for N Gray Books