Digging through some old posts on older versions of this site (on different platforms) I came across this, reprinted in its entirety, unedited (other than formatting). Originally published on July 30th, 2009
Ladies and genuflects, I would like to introduce you to Mr. Eamonn Shute.
An entirely fictional creation, living in Miami for the past eighteen months, he is living life large. And not only because he is 6 foot 6 and 16 stone.Eamonn is a fairly smart guy.
His IQ test in his school year 11/12 (when he was 14 – he completed both grades that year) clocked in at 152. On the day he took the test he was suffering from a virulent form of flu and was heavily medicated, handicapping him by an estimate 15 points.
Eamonn’s a pretty laid back guy though, and didn’t care a whit what his IQ was – he just wanted to do well on his football team. (If you live in North America, that would be soccer, and the rest of us would really appreciate you calling it by its proper name, and quickish, please.)
As large as he was, and being as graceful as a herniated hippo, he seldom played in any position other than goalkeeper.I mentioned he was fairly smart. He figured out the obvious fairly quickly. Sports were set aside and the pursuit of more intellectual endeavours became the focus.
Being an early bloomer allowed him to physically fit into University at the somewhat early age of 15. Three years later he left with a Masters in Mathematics, distinguished honours. Eighteen is too young to start a career, I don’t care what anyone says, so he spent – or planned to spend – a couple of years helping his family run their live-in bed and breakfast castle.
To residents of anywhere other than Western Europe, that may sound strange, but the Shute family were direct descendants and current owners of a modest, draughty, moss-covered Shute Castle located about 15 miles south-west of the much more famous Donegal Castle. To help make ends meet, mother was a primary school teacher and father managed a small, but popular, distillery.
To be as smart as Eamonn is can be a curse. Constant mental stimulation is a requirement. There was, and is, precious little of that at the castle, and to bridge the gap Eamonn started in earnest to study the patterns of the winning numbers in the Irish Sweepstakes. Using large number theories that he had mastered in school he started playing the lottery.
He had a couple of small winnings, more than enough to fund his experiment, until that fateful day, just over eighteen months ago [note: this was written in 2009], when he hit all the numbers. The prize for that particular sweepstakes was well into the 2 comma category. Nine digits before tax, eight after. A small chunk (seven digits) was put aside to ensure permanent upkeep of the castle, as well as permitting both of his parents to retire. Although, if the truth were to be told, his father didn’t retire, per se. No Irishman in his right mind would voluntarily leave the premises of a distillery – he continued on in an advisory capacity at minimal wages.
Eamonn took the remaining funds, still a healthy eight digits in pounds sterling, and moved to Miami, away from the damp, cold land of his birth. He started a business with a vague enough charter to encompass almost everything, earning himself a permanent visa in record time. He has recently purchased a very spacious penthouse apartment on Biscayne Boulevard, with a balcony sporting a stunning view of the rising sun over the Atlantic.
That view of the sun rising over the Atlantic is one that he has not, I am lead to believe, seen yet. To see a sunrise would require Eamonn to rise far earlier than he ever has in his life.
And that is where we leave him for now. Fat, rich, warm and surrounded by greased up, tawny, bikini-clad beauties. The poor soul.
This was the genesis of one of my first books, still one my my favourites.
Mayhem, murder, and a $4,000,000 book.
Eamonn Shute is smart, capable and larger than life. There is nothing he can’t handle.
Until Nicky, the love of his life, is framed by her ex-husband.
Eamonn leaves no stone unturned in his quest to clear Nicky’s name, but the evidence is piling up, and Nicky’s troubles seem insurmountable.
Eamonn needs to hark back to his rough and tumble youth in Donegal, taking on some of the most dangerous people in Miami to clear Nicky’s name.
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"Compelling characters and a well paced plot make this story a joy to read. The suspense kept me reading long into the night. Highly recommended."
"By the end it was, sort of, like riding along with a racing driver around a race track... you can see a corner coming, but the driver doesn't appear to have even thought about hitting the brakes yet; I could tell I was almost at the end of the book, and disaster still hadn't been averted. Sure enough, just like the racing driver, Mr McFadden knew he had just barely enough time to hit the brakes and throw you around that last corner, and onto the home straight."