A Painkiller to Die For blog tour is through Rachel’s Random Resources. Share, follow, comment.
Book Details
A Painkiller to Die For
It was difficult for Will Jeavons to imagine just how his life could possibly get any better. Having overcome a traumatic childhood, he had gone on to study molecular pharmacology and win tenure as a lecturer at his beloved Cambridge University. But his life was soon to become better still, the CEO of a biotech company. Will’s unique research led to the discovery of a non-addictive drug for chronic pain. A remarkable solution for the opioid epidemic which had claimed the life of his mother.
Will’s flourishing company was subsequently acquired, and this was when he first met Celeste Simmonds. The beguiling Celeste would steer Will away from his earlier hedonistic, womanising lifestyle. However, the only way he could ensure the success of his drug was to bury key safety data which could have led to the clinical trials being terminated.
Clinical trials which resulted in the husband of Lydia Goldberg falling into a deep coma. It was Lydia’s scientific training which led her to discover Will’s fraudulent cover-up. She was determined to seek vengeance and concocted an elaborate honeytrap and a decision for Will to make. A career ending confession or being submitted to a life-threatening game of Russian roulette.
Purchase Links
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Painkiller-Die-Dr-Martyn-Pritchard-ebook/dp/B0FC6Y9SXN/
https://www.amazon.com/Painkiller-Die-Dr-Martyn-Pritchard-ebook/dp/B0FC6Y9SXN/
Author Bio
Dr Martyn Pritchard is currently moving towards retirement following on from a 35-year long career in drug discovery research focusing on neuroscience as well as novel medicines to treat pain. He is the author of over 50 scientific papers and book chapters along with one novel written under a nom de plume: A Practical Arrangement.
Social Media Links –
Instagram: martyn.pritchard1 (Instagram)
Facebook: (20+) Facebook
Guest Post
‘A Painkiller to Die For’ by Martyn Pritchard
The paragraphs below are from a chapter towards the middle of the book. It is a scene where Celeste discovers that her husband is once again cheating on her. It was this event that was to later push Celeste into Will’s arms and change his life completely.
As she entered the kitchen to make herself a life-restoring mug of black coffee, Celeste recalled the scene of the morning after that night when Charles somehow convinced her to give their marriage just one last chance. He had certainly made a good start in the bedroom, both during that night and again in the early morning, but it was at breakfast before Celeste left for work and her meeting with Will that she found the more remarkable. Genuine tears from Charles. At least she hoped that they were genuine. Tears as he pleaded for her forgiveness for all that he had done and tears as he once again begged her for one last chance. Celeste couldn’t remember if she had ever seen Charles cry. Certainly not at their wedding and not even when they found out that they couldn’t have children. It would take a heart of stone not to be convinced by this new version of Charles and Celeste’s heart was not one carved from stone.
Although not nearly so dramatic as that first morning and the night before, the next two weeks were a revelation. At least for Celeste. Several quiet dinners for two nights out in Boston. A much less quiet evening out at a nightclub as a nod to old times although not an experience to be repeated if Celeste had a choice. Even a lazy Sunday afternoon spent with Celeste’s parents at the family home. One thing even his wife had to admit was that Charles knew how to socialise. He could charm the birds from the trees. And then there was the sex. Not every night but often enough and good enough to convince Celeste that she was wanted. That he still found her body attractive. Maybe she was wrong after all, and Charles could change his ways.
With the coffee in hand, Celeste pulled up a chair to the kitchen table and decided to catch up on her phone messages as a distracting activity from having to make herself dinner. But it wasn’t her phone that was making a noise, the ringtone was from Charles’s phone. The ringing had stopped long before she found his phone in the usual place on the low table in the orangery. There was a message lit up on Charles’ phone.
Missed call from Naomi
Celeste felt the need to sit down in the wicker armchair. Then almost immediately a text from Naomi, which she opened courtesy of the PIN Charles had shared with Celeste the previous week. No more secrets.
Where the fuck are you? You’re supposed to meet me outside the hotel at seven.
Celeste could feel bile collecting in her throat. Perhaps she was jumping to conclusions. It might all be something to do with his work. An evening dinner with a client although the language used might argue against such a scenario. She should at least wait until he comes home and is given the chance to explain something that might be completely innocent. A WhatsApp short video follow up from Naomi changed Celeste’s original course of action in a heartbeat.
If you don’t turn up at room 618 in the next thirty minutes then I’m putting all this back in the box.
What followed was a sex act that Naomi demonstrated on her naked body which left no doubt as to why and where Charles was hoping to be that night.
Celeste was surprised to feel hot tears streaming down her cheeks and onto the bed as she hurriedly packed a suitcase with enough clothes to see her through the rest of the week. She wasn’t sure if the tears were from the realisation that her marriage was now finally going to be over or from the realisation that she had once again been humiliated and made to look a gullible fool. Whichever it was, now was the time to get out of the house as quickly as she could and before Charles realised that he had left his precious phone and incriminating evidence at home and return to collect it. At that moment, Celeste just didn’t want to be in the same house let alone the same room as her husband ever again.
As she banged the heavy suitcase down the stairs, she paused to consider leaving him a handwritten letter but there was no time. She could send something on her phone when she arrived at the sanctuary of a hotel she would stay for the night.
Writing an email to her husband was the first thing she did when she sat down at the table in her hotel room.
Dearest Charles,
Just a short note to say that I won’t be staying the night in ‘our’ house tonight. Nor any other night. I am assuming you are fully aware of the reason why and a reason which you will see explained in more detail when you hear from my lawyers.
I wish I could say that it’s been a blast. But it hasn’t. I wish I could say that I still love you. But I don’t. I wish I could say that we will part on good terms. But we won’t.
Please don’t try to contact me, my family or my friends. If there is something you need to say, then say it to my lawyers. Expect one of my friends to drop by ‘our’ house in the coming days to pick up the rest of my clothes and important belongings. I will give them my house keys.
I can’t wish you well but neither do I wish you ill. I just no longer care.
Your ex-wife to be,
Celeste
PS Please do pass on my compliments to your latest young beau on her wonderful body and astonishing flexibility. I wonder what she sees in the multimillionaire that is Charles Lewis Amos III.
Below is the book’s blurb for reference –
Will Jeavons had cured chronic pain. He’d also buried the truth.
Will Jeavons had already beaten the odds once. A brutal childhood hadn’t stopped him from becoming a lecturer at Cambridge University and CEO of his own biotech company. Now he was on the verge of something even bigger: a non-addictive painkiller that could end the opioid crisis that killed his mother.
There was just one problem. The only way to get his drug across the finish line was to bury the safety data that would have shut the trials down.
One of the patients paying the price for Jeavons’s medical fraud was Lydia Goldberg. The experimental drug had trapped her husband in a coma he may never wake from. And Lydia isn’t just a grieving wife. She’s a scientist, and she’s found the fraud Will thought was buried for good.
Now Will faces a choice with no easy ending: confess to his crime and lose everything he has worked for or try and survive Lydia’s chosen reckoning — a unique and deadly game of Russian roulette with everything on the line.
Some secrets don’t stay buried. Some patients don’t stay silent.
‘A Painkiller to Die For’ has been featured in the Cambridge Independent newspaper (picture below) and I was interviewed by TalkRadio.
I hope you will find this useful.
Regards,
Martyn
