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About the author:
Born and raised in London, England, Sam Anthony is the author of psychological thrillers such as The Adulterer Series:
The Adulterer's Handbook: A Novel
The Adulterer's Confession: A Novel
The Adulterer's Dilemma: A Novel
The Adulterer's Trial: A Novel (coming soon)
Tales Of Adultery & Infatuation: A Collection Of Short Stories
Sam loves reading, peanut butter and jazz (preferably at the same time).
He wishes his beloved wife to know that The Adulterer books are works of FICTION!
What inspired you to write your book?
The idea for this book came when I received a WhatsApp message meant for somebody else. It was innocuous enough, but it made me wonder: what if a ‘happily’ married man accidentally sent a suspicious text message to his wife instead of his lover? Is there a way out of that situation? Why was he cheating if he was happily married? How would he try to rationalise his unforgivable behaviour? Why was his lover having an affair with a married man? What steps could they take to minimise the chance of their affair being discovered? What else could go wrong? And what about his wife? What was her role in this story? Could there possibly be a happy ending?
So many questions, but I thoroughly enjoyed trying to get inside the mind of my main character as his life spiralled inexorably downward.
I loved writing it, and when it was finished, I loved reading it. I hope you do too.
Here is a short sample from the book:
I raise my hands to her shoulders and give her a hard shove. She stumbles away from me until her heel catches on a tree root and she falls backwards, arms windmilling, towards the setting sun.
“Lee…” she shouts before there’s a spectacular splash and she disappears beneath the green, frothing water.
My first thought is, she won’t be happy about me ruining her new dress.
My second is, I hope she doesn’t swallow any of that slimy, foul-smelling canal water.
In a moment of panic, one thought comes to the fore: she can’t swim!
Am I going to have to jump in and rescue her? I don’t mind my jeans getting wet, but I’m wearing my favourite shirt. Have I got time to strip off?
Then, to my great relief, she comes coughing and spluttering to the surface. I expect to receive an earful of fully justified abuse, but, to my surprise, after some ineffectual splashing, she disappears beneath the surface again.
The water quickly stills above her.
She genuinely can’t swim.
I’m about to jump into the canal and pull her to safety when I stop at the edge of the towpath.
What if I do nothing…?