Greg Hoffman



The Eighth Deadly Sin by John S. Richardson of Tampa

I am publishing this because the author is the father of my best friend in the world, Anna. I haven't had the chance to read the book but I will order a copy as soon as possible.

The book, The Eighth Deadly Sin was published by Raven Publishing of Tampa. While it is a fiction novel, John S. Richardson has gone to great lengths to tell the reader about real life killers and why they kill; and in fact, reflects the real life incident of a woman who had a brush with a serial killer and lived to tell about it. Read an excerpt from the book below and order a copy.

The unexplained noises she was hearing had put her on edge and as she stared intently at the blank computer screen in front of her a terrible thought crossed her mind; had she locked the front door as Brian had suggested? She tried to focus on what she had done when she first came home but couldn’t remember actually locking the door.

It was she something did routinely, she thought to herself; so perhaps she did lock it and simply didn’t remember. Suddenly her eyes caught a glimpse of what appeared to be some sort of movement on the darkened screen. She spun her head around and stared into the hall behind her, but there was nothing there. Speaking softly to herself as she stood, she said.

“This must be the wine doing this. I am not afraid.”

Then, edging slowly toward the door, she turned the lights to the den off so she could hide if her worst suspicions were true and there actually was someone else in the condo. After reaching the door, she leaned her head out and peered down the hallway. Night had set in and she now realized she had not turned any other lights on in the rest of the condo. The dim moonlight shinning through the balcony door from the other end of the hall was the only thing between her and total darkness. Gathering up every ounce of courage possible, she took a step out in the hall.

She could now hear the beat of her heart with each step down the hallway and the images created by the light from the moon seemed to be swaying through the balcony door and ever so slightly against the wall. The adrenalin in her system was working over time bringing her to a heightened sense of the sounds and smells around her; things that she didn’t normally notice. With the palms of her hands flat against the wall, she took a deep breath and began the short yet arduous trip toward the family room.

Glancing from side to side, she was soon within a foot of the front door then slid her hand quietly up the door frame to the knob. Her hand moved across the smooth cold surface of the brass handle where she was able to feel the position of the lock. It was all she could do to keep herself from screaming out, as now she realized that she had not locked the door.

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