Greg Levin is an award-winning writer of darkly humorous transgressive thrillers/crime fiction. Levin‘s novel The Exit Man was optioned by HBO and later by Showtime for development into a TV series, and won a 2015 Independent Publisher Book Award (a.k.a., an “IPPY”). Greg earned a second IPPY with his next novel, Sick to Death, which transgressive master Craig Clevenger (The Contortionist’s Handbook) called “a tour de force dark comedy.” Levin latest book, In Wolves’ Clothing, is his most dangerous. (He wrote much of it during a ten-week-long workshop led by the great Chuck Palahniuk, author of Fight Club and lots of other books Greg sleeps with at night.) In Wolves’ Clothing was named a Finalist for the 2018 National Indie Excellence Book Awards in two categories: “Contemporary Novel” and “Cross-Genre.”
Books
The Exit Man
Suicide should come with a warning label: “Do not try this alone.”
If you truly need out and want the job done right, you should consider using an outside expert.
Like Eli.
Eli Edelmann never intended on making a living through mercy killing. After reluctantly taking over his family’s party supply store following his father’s death, he is approached by a terminally ill family friend who’s had enough. The friend, a retired policeman, has an intricate plan involving something Eli has ready access to – helium. Eli is initially shocked and repulsed by the proposal, but soon begins to soften his stance and, after much deliberation, eventually agrees to lend a hand.
It was supposed to be a one-time thing. How could Eli have known euthanasia was his true calling? And how long can he keep his daring underground “exit” operation going before the police or his volatile new girlfriend get wise?
Sick to Death
Knowing you’re dying can be murder.
When Gage Adder finds out he has inoperable pancreatic cancer, things really start to look up for him. He leaves his soul-crushing job, joins a nice terminal illness support group, and takes up an exciting new hobby: Beating the hell out of bad guys.
Gage’s support group friends Jenna and Ellison don’t approve of his vigilante activities. Jenna says fighting never solves anything. Poison, on the other hand… When the three decide to team up and hit the streets, suddenly no rapist, pedophile or other odious criminal in the city is safe.
They are the sickest of superheroes. Their superpower is nothing left to lose. But what happens when one of them takes this power too far and puts at risk the lives of hundreds of innocent people? Where does one draw the line when dying to kill?
In Wolves' Clothing
On his best days, Zero Slade is the worst man you can imagine. He has to be. It’s the only way to save the Lost Girls.
During his seven years on a team fighting child sex trafficking, Zero’s become quite good at schmoozing with pimps, getting handcuffed by cops and pretending not to care about the Lost Girls he liberates. But the dangerous sting operations are starting to take their toll on his marriage and sanity. His affinity for prescription painkillers isn’t exactly helping matters.
When the youngest girl the team has ever rescued gets abducted from a safe house in Cambodia, Zero decides to risk everything to find her. His only shot is to go rogue, and sink deeper into the bowels of the trafficking world than he’s ever sunk.
It’s the biggest mission of his life. Trouble is, it’s almost certain death.
Whenever out with others, I can do pleasant. I can do content. I’m even able to muster empathy and interest on occasion. It’s not as easy as doing conniving, creepy, sleazy and sinister, but sometimes you just have to leave work at the office.
Over the previous six months, there was only one thing Gage had become more efficient at than killing… and that was dying.
I can’t remember if I took an oxy during the flight, so I eat two. They pair nicely with the scotch. It’s good to be home.
Suicide should come with a warning label: ‘Do not try this alone.’
One week I’m helping to end a life, the next I’m stepping in to save one. Seemingly dichotomous acts, but actually one in the same.
In this job, you learn to ignore the urge to comfort those you’re protecting.
That’s one of the drawbacks of good narcotics—they often cause you to say cheerful things.
He never praised me whenever I’d hit a home run in little league, but I kill a few people and all of the sudden I’m his idol.
She had become an integral part of my life—just not the part with all the death.
I say I’m fine. I tell him I’ll be back to my old self once we’re getting handcuffed in Phnom Penh.
We’d be dead. Big deal. Death’s not such a long drop these days. Not for us.
There’s nothing better than being the bad guy. Long enough to do some good.