#BlogTour #Extract: The Red Beach Hut by Lynn Michell @InspiredQuill @LinenPressBooks

I’m excited to be able to share an extract of the intriguing The Red Beach Hut by Lynn Michell with you today.  Huge apologies to the lovely Nicola Sweeney for being late with this blog post due to a few rather hectic days.

The Red Beach Hut is now available to buy in paperback and in eBook where it is currently only £1.99.

Book Synopsis:

Their eyes met and locked. Pulling his hand from his pocket, Neville waved. Once.”

Eight year old Neville is the first to notice that the red beach hut is occupied again.

Abbott, panicked by what he believes is a homophobic cyber attack, is on the run. The hut is his refuge and shelter.

Inevitably man and boy collide. Their fleeting friendship is poignant, honest and healing. But Abbot’s past threatens to tear him away, as others watch and self-interpret what they see.

An evocative portrayal of two outsiders who find companionship on a lonely beach, Lynn Michell’s novel is about the labels we give people who are different, and the harm that ensues.


At this hour there were of course no taxis, which was fine because to show his face would have been risky. It was less than three miles to the beach and after sitting rigid and tense with the rattle of clickety-click wheels in his ears, he needed the walk and the fresh air even with his ludicrously unwieldy luggage. The main road, at first a long lonely stretch of nothingness, reached B&B land, then sprouted arteries to the left which wound downhill towards and through the town centre: past the tourist shops, their stands of t-shirts and flip-flops pulled inside behind shutters for the night, past Tesco Lifestyle, past pizza places where faded photos of meals cello-taped in the windows told the punters what they could eat, past hairdressers and nail bars and betting shops and slot machine arcades. Neon lights gave the place a garish pallor and made it sadly old-fashioned, though perhaps by daylight it would look just the same. It didnt matter. He would live facing away from all of this, venturing up the hill from the promenade only for provisions. The summer would soon be gone and the shops and cafes would close until the following year. The resort would die, leaving the old folk who always lived here and the dwindling numbers of families and single men who could find winter work. The young left for the big cities the minute the doors closed on their school careers. Better to stack shelves than to stay here.

At the bottom of the hill, a line of bollards marked the end of access to vehicles and the start of the concrete pedestrian promenade that ran above the beach, giving access to the sands every fifty or so metres down a flight of steps. The stalls dotted along the way, like the shops, were shut up for the night, but he noted that this was where he could come for easy food when he didnt feel like preparing meals himself. Half-way along the promenade, a brightly coloured wall rose up, surprising visitors who had expected to see discreet shades of cream and white. A relic from another era, these beach huts had acquired an unexpected nostalgia and popularity, had been gentrified, and were valued by town folk and holiday makers alike. His aunts was the last but one. She had always wanted to paint it a deep turquoise to match the sea on the sunniest day but the rules for cosmetic changes to the exterior were strict and many. Seven colours were permitted and turquoise wasnt one of them, so red it stayed. Yes, there it was.

Theres no-one watching, you idiot. Not a soul on the beach but you, he told himself without conviction as he walked along the concrete, placing one careful foot in front of the other and holding his holdall in both arms so that it did not make a noise banging against his legs. His arm muscles screamed. No light shone from any of the huts below and he knew that apart from his aunt, people did not sleep in them. At least they hadnt when he was a kid. But fear and lack of sleep dumbed down reason and he told himself someone might be staying the night.

Students. Squatters. Someone eccentric like my aunt. Someone on the run like me. 

Reaching the farthest end where there were no more steps, he hung his bag and rucksack from the ends of his aching arms, as far as he could reach, before letting go. He winced as they landed with barely a thump. Then he bent his knees and jumped, aiming for the quietest possible landing on the sand. The very soft thud made his heart race and he waited at the end of the line of huts for several minutes before moving or poking his head round the corner. A fleeting glimpse.

Nothing. Nobody.

The end hut where he was now standing had the luxury of a side window and with a brief look inside, he reassured himself that this one was definitely empty. He looked in again for longer. Deck chairs and small tables were folded and stacked against the far wall, and other stuff was packed away in boxes, suggesting the owners had left and might not be back this season. It looked too neat and tidy and swept to be a quick end-of-day clearance before another day on the beach. He picked up his bags and began a breath-held walk from the end hut to his own. Yes, his own. In his pocket, he felt for the keys on their dolphin chain.

It was with guilty, worried speed that he fumbled the key into the lock, pushed open the red door and got himself and his bags inside. Five seconds. He closed the door very softly behind him and for the first time since hed come back from lunch to find his computer hacked, he let his shoulders droop. Leaning against the door, he closed his eyes and permitted himself a slow outward breath of relief. Whatever happened, he had a few days of precious time here to think it through, to reflect on the magnitude of what hed done and to come to terms with whatever consequences might follow. But right now, in this red cell, they didnt matter. Now mattered. The very early hours of today mattered. And tomorrow when it came. And the next day. 

With weary, travel-sore eyes, he looked around. Apart from the musty unused smell of a hut that had been shut up for more than a year and the layer of fine sand that had blown under the crack below the door and covered every surface, this interior was a work of domestic perfection, its confined space converted into a workable, delightful home. Like a small caravan, or a campervan, only more lived-in and private. Every detail had been considered. Against the farthest wall was a platform holding a mattress with folded bedding on top and book shelves below. His aunts books still packed one half of the rough wooden planks while the rest of the space was filled with wicker baskets, probably for clothes, which exactly slotted into the spaces. A full-length red curtain was pushed to one side, but could be drawn across the bed, maybe to separate night from day. At the front, a window above a table was hung with the same filmy red fabric and a blind could also be pulled down to stop the light leaking out, light from a genuine old oil lamp because there was no electricity.

Peeling his body from the security of the door, Abbott went to the window, pulled down the blind and closed the curtains. His aunt had been clear-thinking enough to have left matches next to the lamp. Abbott lifted the glass cover, turned up the wick, struck a match and held it close. Little beads of fire sizzled around the wick before flaring confidently into creamy flames which he turned down and tuned to a rich pulsing glow that filled the space with welcoming light.

About The Author:


Once upon a time I had a day job as an academic lecturing in English and Psychology. Later I did research that was a bit like anthropology: I spent one year in a Glasgow secondary school recording my conversations with teenagers and finding out what it was like to be them. I have always been interested in writing up the lives of other people and giving them a voice.

Then I became ill. Very, very ill. Not just me, but my two sons and several academics in my husband’s department. We all had ME. I tried going back to work after six years but only lasted eighteen months before a severe relapse.

Seven years on, I tried to exit the ME ghetto again. I ran a gentle, weekly creative writing class at The Salisbury Centre in Edinburgh. I discovered that I loved working with writers, was good at mentoring and above all was passionate about good prose. I set up Linen Press as a natural next step.

I have always written. I must be a very slow learner, not recognising that I should have stuck with writing and editing all along. The world of books is where I belong. It is satisfying to work closely with my authors and to turn a promising manuscript into a beautiful book, and I revel in each unique and challenging publisher-writer relationship.

Recently there have been big changes in my personal life. Seven years ago we started work on a half-built house on a rocky, isolated hillside in France. Now completion is in sight. Six years ago, I become the grandmother of twin girls. Incredibly, in April 2017, another set of twin girls were born. Two sons, both with twin girls when we have none in our families—more female stories unfolding.

Lynn’s books published by Linen Press

White Lies (Accepted for publication in hardback by Quartet Books)

Shooting Stars are the Flying Fish of the Night (with Stefan Gregory)

Lynn’s books published by other publishers

Write From The Start. Oliver & Boyd.

Growing Up in Smoke. Pluto Press.

A Stranger At My Table: Mothering Adolescents. (Ed) The Women’s Press.

Shattered: Life With ME. HarperCollins.

Wild On Her Blue Days. (Ed). AmberSand Press.

Letters To My Semi-Detached Son: A Mother’s Story. The Women’s Press.

Run, Alice, Run IQ Press.

The Red Beach Hut. IQ Press.

Follow The Blog Tour:

Although the blog tour is now over, do go back and visit these bloggers to find out what they thought of The Red Beach Hut.

thumbnail_The Red Beach Hut (2)


#Extract: The Secret Mother by Shalini Boland @ShaliniBoland @bookouture



Tonight I’m very excited to be able to share an extract of The Secret Mother by Shalini Boland.  The Secret Mother will be published on the 9th November but is available to pre-order in the UK and in the US now.

I am taking part in the blog tour for this book on the 14th November so do come back then to check out my review!

Before I share the extract with you but let me tell you a little bit about the book…..

Book Synopsis:

Tessa Markham comes home to find a child in her kitchen calling her ‘mummy’. But Tessa doesn’t have any children.

Not anymore.

She doesn’t know who the little boy is or how he got there.

After contacting the police, Tessa comes under suspicion for snatching the child. She must fight to prove her innocence. But how can she convince everyone she’s not guilty when even those closest to her are questioning the truth? And when Tessa doesn’t even trust herself…

A chilling, unputdownable thriller with a dark twist that will take your breath away and make you wonder if you can ever trust anyone again. Perfect for fans of Gone Girl, The Girl on the Train and The Sister.


Chapter One

The street lamps flicker, illuminating the grey pavement mottled with patches of dirty snow and slick black ice. Slushy puddles hug the kerb, cringing away from the hissing, splashing car tyres. It takes all my concentration to keep my balance. My hands would be warmer if I jammed them into my coat pockets, but I need them free to steady myself on walls, fences, tree trunks, lamp posts. I don’t want to fall. And yet would it really be so terrible if I slipped on the ice? Wet jeans, a bruised bum. Not the end of the world. There are worse things. Far worse things.

It’s Sunday: the last exhale of the week. That uncomfortable pause before Monday, when it all starts up again – this lonely pretence at life. Sunday has become a black dot on the horizon for me, growing larger each day. I’m relieved now it’s almost over and yet I’m already anticipating the next one. The day when I visit the cemetery and stand above their graves, staring at the grass and stone, talking to them both, wondering if they hear my inane chatter or if I’m simply talking into the empty wind. In burning sunlight, pouring rain, sub-zero temperatures or thick fog I stand there. Every week. I’ve never missed a Sunday yet.

Sleet spatters my face. Icy needles that make me blink and gasp. Finally, I turn off the high street into my narrow road, where it’s more sheltered and the wind less violent. A rainbow assortment of overflowing bins lines my route, waiting for collection tomorrow at some ungodly pre-dawn hour. I turn my face away from the windows where Christmas tree lights wink and blink, reminding me of happier Christmases. Before.

Almost home.

My little north London terraced house sits halfway along the road. Pushing open the rusted gate, I turn my face away from the neglected front garden with its discarded sweet wrappers and crisp packets blown in from the street, now wedged among long tussocks of grass and overgrown bushes. I thrust my frozen fingers into my bag until they finally close around a jagged set of keys. I’m glad to be home, to get out of the cold, and yet my body sags when I open the door and step into the dark silence of the hall, feeling the hollow of their absence.

At least it’s warm in here. I shrug off my coat, kick off my boots, dump my bag on the hall table and switch on the light, avoiding my sad reflection in the hall mirror. A glass of wine would be welcome about now. I glance at my watch – only 5.20. No. I’ll be good and make a hot chocolate instead.

Strangely, the door to the kitchen is closed. This strikes me as odd, as I always leave it open. Perhaps a gust of wind slammed it shut when I came in. I trudge to the end of the hall and stop. Through a gap in the bottom of the door I see that the light is on. Someone’s in there. I catch my breath, feel the world slow down for a moment before it speeds back up. Could I have a burglar in my house? 

I cock my ear. A sound filters through. Humming. A child is humming a tune in my kitchen. But I don’t have a child. Not any more. 

Slowly I pull down the handle and push the door, my body tensing. I hardly dare breathe.

Here before me sits a little boy with dark hair, wearing pale blue jeans and a green cable-knit jumper. A little boy aged about five or six, perched on a chair at my kitchen counter, humming a familiar tune. Head down, he is intent on his drawing, colouring pencils spread out around an A4 sheet of paper. A navy raincoat hangs neatly over the back of the chair.

He looks up as I enter the room, his chocolate-brown eyes wide. We stare at one another for a moment.

‘Are you my mummy?’ the little boy asks.

I bite my bottom lip, feel the ground shift. I grasp the counter top to steady myself. ‘Hello,’ I say, my heart suddenly swelling. ‘Hello. And who might you be?’

‘You know. I’m Harry,’ he replies. ‘Do you like my picture?’ He holds the sheet out in front of him, showing me his drawing of a little boy and a woman standing next to a train. ‘It’s not finished. I haven’t had time to colour it in properly,’ he explains.

‘It’s lovely, Harry. Is that you standing next to the train?’

‘Yes.’ He nods. ‘It’s you and me. I drew it for you because you’re my mummy.’

Am I hallucinating? Have I finally gone crazy? This beautiful little boy is calling me his mummy. And yet I don’t know him. I’ve never seen him before in my life. I close my eyes tight and then open them again. He’s still there, looking less confident now. His hopeful smile has faltered, slipping into a frown. His eyes are now a little too bright. I know that look – it’s the one that precedes tears.

‘Hey, Harry,’ I say with false jollity. ‘So you like trains, huh?’

His smile returns. ‘Steam trains are the best. Better than diesels.’ He scrunches up his face in disgust and blinks.

‘Did you come here on the train? To my house?’

‘No. We came on the bus. I wish we did come on the train, the bus was really slow. And it made me feel a bit sick.’ He lays the sheet of paper back on the counter.

‘And who did you come with?’ I ask.

‘The angel.’

I think I must have misheard him. ‘Who?’

‘The angel brought me here. She told me that you’re my mummy.’

‘The angel?’

He nods.

I glance around, suddenly aware that Harry might not be the only stranger in my house. ‘Is she here now?’ I ask in a whisper. ‘Is there someone else here with you?’

‘No, she’s gone. She told me to do some drawing and you’d be here soon.’

I relax my shoulders, relieved that there’s no one else in my home. But it still doesn’t help me solve the problem of who this little boy is. ‘How did you get into the house?’ I ask, nervously wondering if I might find a smashed window somewhere.

‘Through the front door, silly,’ he replies with a smile, rolling his eyes.

Through the front door? Did I leave it open somehow? I’m sure I would never have done that. What’s going on here? I should call someone. The authorities. The police. Somebody will be looking for this child. They will be frantic with worry. ‘Would you like a hot chocolate, Harry?’ I ask, keeping my voice as calm as possible. ‘I was going to make one for myself, so—’

‘Do you make it with milk?’ he interrupts. ‘Or with hot water? It’s definitely nicer with milk.’ 

I suppress a smile. ‘I agree, Harry. I always make it with milk.’

‘Okay. Yes, please,’ he replies. ‘Hot chocolate would be lovely.’

My heart squeezes at his politeness.

‘Shall I carry on colouring in my picture,’ he says, ‘or shall I help you? Because I’m really good at stirring in the chocolate.’

‘Well, that’s lucky,’ I reply, ‘because I’m terrible at stirring in the chocolate, so it’s a good thing you’re here to help me.’

He grins and slides off the stool.

What am I doing? I need to call the police right now. This child is missing from somewhere. But, oh God, just give me ten minutes with this sweet little boy who believes I’m his mother. Just a few moments of make-believe and then I’ll do the right thing. I reach out to touch his head and immediately snatch my hand back. What am I thinking? This boy has to go back to his real mother; she must be paralysed with worry.

He smiles up at me again and my chest constricts.

‘Okay,’ I say, taking a breath and blinking back any threat of tears. ‘We’ll do the chocolate in a minute. I’m just going to make a quick phone call in the hall, okay?’

‘Oh, okay.’

‘Carry on with your drawing for a little while. I won’t be long.’

He climbs back up onto the stool and selects a dark green pencil before resuming his colouring with a look of serious concentration. I turn away and pad out to the hall, where I retrieve my phone from my bag. But instead of dialling the police, I call another number. It rings twice.

‘Tess.’ The voice at the other end of the line is clipped, wary.

‘Hi, Scott. I need you to come over.’

‘What? Now?’

‘Yes. Please, it’s important.’

‘Tessa, I’m knackered, and it’s hideous out there. I’ve just sat down with a cup of tea. Can’t it wait till tomorrow?’

‘No.’ Standing by the hall table, I glimpse Harry through the doorway, the curls of his fringe flopping over one eye. Am I dreaming him?

‘What’s the matter?’ Scott says this the way he always says it. What he really means is, What’s the matter now? Because there’s always something the matter. I’m his damaged wife, who’s always having some new drama or make-believe crisis. Only this time he’ll see it’s something real, it’s something not of my making.

‘I can’t tell you over the phone, it’s too weird. You have to come over, see for yourself.’

His sigh comes long and hard down the phone. ‘Give me twenty minutes, okay?’

‘Okay. Thanks, Scott. Get here as soon as you can.’ 

My heart pounds, trying to make sense of what’s happening. That little boy in there says an angel brought him. He says I’m his mummy. But he’s not mine. So where on earth did he come from?

I take a breath and go back into the kitchen. The air is warm, welcoming, cosy. Nothing like the usual sterile atmosphere in here.

‘Can we make hot chocolate now?’ Harry looks up with shining eyes.

‘Of course. I’ll get the mugs and the chocolate. You open that drawer over there and pass me the smallest pan you can find.’

He eagerly does as I ask.

‘Harry,’ I say. ‘Where are your parents, your mummy and daddy?’

He stares at the pans in the drawer.

‘Harry?’ I prompt.

‘They’re not here,’ he replies. ‘Is this one small enough?’ He lifts out a stainless-steel milk pan and waves it in my direction.

‘Perfect.’ I nod and take it from him. ‘Can you tell me where you live?’

No reply.

‘Did you run away from home? Are you lost?’


‘But where’s your house or flat? The place you live? Is it here in Friern Barnet? In London? Close to my house?’

He scowls and looks down at the flagstone floor.

‘Do you have a last name?’ I ask as gently as I can.

He looks up at me, his chin jutting out. ‘No.’

I try again, crouching down so I’m on his level. ‘Harry, darling, what’s your mummy’s name?’

‘You’re my new mummy. I have to stay here now.’ His bottom lip quivers.

‘Okay, sweetie. Don’t worry. Let’s just make our drinks, shall we?’

He nods vigorously and sniffs.

I give his hand a squeeze and straighten up. I wish I hadn’t had to call Scott. And yet I need him to be here when I ring the police. I can’t deal with them on my own, not after what happened before. I’m dreading their arrival – the questions, the sideways glances, the implication that I might have done something wrong. I haven’t done anything wrong, though. Have I?

And Harry… he’ll be taken away. What if his parents have been abusive? What if he has to go into foster care? A thousand thoughts run through my mind, each worse than the one before. But it’s not my place to decide what happens to him. There’s nothing I can do about any of it, because he’s not mine. 

I don’t have a child. Not any more.

What people are saying about The Secret Mother:

‘Read in one sitting from 9pm last night until 2:15 am. I literally could not put it down!!!! The story line and the twists and the way it’s written just draws you in completely and you have to know where it’s going I couldn’t read fast enough… absolutely addictive and brilliant and an end I didn’t see coming. This is one book you have to read and it gets 5 huge stars from me!!!!’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars

‘What can I say? Just wow. I’m usually never surprised by an ending, but this one blew me away. I am totally in shock and think I’ll have a hangover from this book for a while. A great read that keeps you on your toes until the very last word.’ Stacey Harrell, Goodreads 

‘If anyone can have me reading until 2am and finishing a book in less than 48hrs in the school holidays it’s this author… massive five stars from me.’ Sarah Mackins, UK Crime Book Club, 5 stars

‘The ending of this book blew me out of the water, you won’t be able to put this down.’ For the Love of Books, 5 stars

‘The plot is gripping and once you’ve started reading, you have to keep on reading, you need to know how the story will end.’ Bits About Books, 5 Stars
… one of the most chilling reads of the year for me.’Ajoobacats Blog, 5 Stars

‘This book should come with a warning… make sure you have enough time to read it in one-sitting because as soon as you’ll pick it up, you won’t be able to put it down!’ Bookishly Ever After, 5 stars
‘This is a brilliant psychological thriller. In fact, it’s one of the best I’ve read. It is full of suspense and has more twists and turns than a fairground ride.’ Jackie Roche, UK Crime Book Club, 5 Stars

‘I thought I knew the direction this story was going go. Then the jaw dropping moment happened!… unputdownable!’ Goodreads Reviewer, 5 Stars

‘Once again, Boland has managed to blow my mind with all the twists and turns… an outstanding explosive read!’ Mello and June, 5 Stars

‘Great book. I read it in less than 24 hours. I was unable to put it down. The story was fast paced and intriguing.’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars

About the Author:

Shalini Boland - Author Pic

Shalini Boland lives in Dorset, England with her husband, two children and their cheeky terrier cross. Before kids, she was signed to Universal Music Publishing as a singer/songwriter, but now she spends her days writing psychological thrillers (in between school runs and hanging out endless baskets of laundry).

THE SECRET MOTHER (published by Bookouture) is now available to pre-order!

Shalini’s debut psychological thriller THE GIRL FROM THE SEA reached No 1 in the US Audible charts and No 7 in the UK Kindle charts. Her second thriller THE BEST FRIEND reached no 2 in the US Audible charts and No 10 in the Amazon UK Kindle charts. It also achieved number 1 in all its categories and was a Kindle All Star title for several months in a row. Shalini’s recent release THE MILLIONAIRE’S WIFE reached No 9 in the Kindle UK charts.





#BlogTour: Snare by Lilja Sigurdardottir @lilja1972 @Orendabooks @annecater

thumbnail_SNARE new front cover

I’m very excited to be on the blog tour for Snare by Lilja Sigurdardottir.  Snare is now available to buy in e-book or paperback Here or from all good book stores!

Book Synopsis:

After a messy divorce, attractive young mother Sonia is struggling to provide for herself and keep custody of her son. With her back to the wall, she resorts to smuggling cocaine into Iceland, and finds herself caught up in a ruthless criminal world. As she desperately looks for a way out of trouble, she must pit her wits against her nemesis, Bragi, a customs officer, whose years of experience frustrate her new and evermore daring strategies. Things become even more complicated when Sonia embarks on a relationship with a woman, Agla. Once a high-level bank executive, Agla is currently being prosecuted in the aftermath the Icelandic financial crash. Set in a Reykjavik still covered in the dust of the Eyjafjallajokull volcanic eruption, and with a dark, fast-paced and chilling plot and intriguing characters, Snare is an outstandingly original and sexy Nordic crime thriller, from one of the most exciting new names in crime fiction.

My Review:

Snare is definitely a book that will stay with me for a long time mainly because of its hard-hitting and sometimes harrowing, main story line about drug smuggling.  It’s a subject we hear a lot about int he news and I’ve often wondered how and why people resort to drug smuggling in the first place, especially with all the risks involved.  In Snare, the author offers up one explanation in a gripping and unflinching narrative that really had me breathless at times as I wondered what on earth would happen next.  Some of the passages describing the drug smuggling are quite harrowing and horrifying.  I’d like to think such things don’t happen in real life, but sadly i don’t think this is the case, except maybe the tiger?! (I hope).  The fear and desperation some of the characters feel throughout the book is almost palpable a times and you really feel for them in those situations as well as disbelief that people can be so unfeeling and cruel.

I really like Sonja.  I thought she seemed a very in control, clever and resourceful woman who had some ingenious methods for getting drugs into Iceland.  These were quite thrilling to read about as you were never quite sure if she’d get caught or not and I did find myself holding my breath at times as events unfolded.  I fond that I had a lot of sympathy wither her and the situation that she finds herself in, not just in the drug smuggling but the tense home situation with her ex husband.  I felt indignant on her behalf for all the upset she was suffering and warmed to her throughout the book hoping she’d find a way out of the mess.  Her relationship with her son Thomas was really beautiful to read about and helped provided some light relief in a tense book.  The passages describing their time together and their obvious love for one another bought a tear to my eye and I had a smile on my face as I read about their exploits.  It was very poignant to read about the restraints on their relationship and my heart ached for the pair of them, imagining what they must be feeling.

The author mentions some interesting information about Icelandic traditions and food which was fascinating to read about.  I was particularly intrigued by snowflake bread and wish to try it for myself.

Snare is the first book in the Reykjavik Noir series and I very much look forward to reading more from her.  I’m hoping that the same characters are involved as I would like to find out what happens next for Sonja.

Huge thanks to Orenda Books and Anne Cater for my copy of this book and for inviting me on the blog tour.

About the author:

thumbnail_Lilja author photo

Icelandic crime-writer Lilja Sigurdardóttir was born in the town of Akranes in 1972 and raised in Mexico, Sweden, Spain and Iceland. An award-winning playwright, Lilja has written four crime novels, with Snare, the first in a new series, hitting bestseller lists worldwide. The film rights have been bought by Palomar Pictures in California. Lilja has a background in education and has worked in evaluation and quality control for preschools in recent years. She lives in Reykjavík with her partner.

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The Invitation by Lucy Foley @lucyfoleytweets @HarperCollinsUK @bisscakes

Product Details

Book Synopsis:

It’s 1951. In Europe’s post-war wreckage, the glittering Italian Riviera draws an eclectic cast of characters; lured by the glamour but seeking an escape.

Amongst them, two outcasts: Hal, an English journalist who’s living on his charm; and Stella, an enigmatic society beauty, bound to a profiteering husband. When Hal receives a mysterious invitation from a wealthy Contessa, he finds himself aboard a yacht headed for Cannes film festival.

Scratch the beautiful surface, and the post-war scars of his new companions are quick to show. Then there’s Stella, whose secrets run deeper than anyone’s ― stretching back into the violence of Franco’s Spain. And as Hal gets drawn closer, a love affair begins that will endanger everyone…

The Invitation is an epic love story that will transport you from the glamour of the Italian Riviera, to the darkness of war-torn Spain. Perfect for fans of Kate Morton and Victoria Hislop.

My Review:

The Invitation is definitely one of those books that takes you to another time and place.  I really felt like I was travelling through post war Europe with the characters, experiencing all the sights with them.  I now really hope to travel through Europe at some point and visit all the countries they did.

I loved the Countessa! I thought she was such a fantastic character, so full of life (despite her age), welcoming, friendly and a tad mischievous.  Her obvious care towards her guests and her meddling in their lives to increase their happiness, was lovely to read about.  Her antics often had me laughing out loud at times, especially when it wasn’t at first clear what she was up to and her devious schemes were gradually revealed.  All the characters have been affected by the war in different ways which was fascinating to read about, particularly as in their histories is mentioned a part of the war that i didn’t know much about.  All the characters go on a personal journey throughout the book and it was lovely to see how much they had changed towards the end.

The building relationship between Stella and Hal was brilliantly done and seemed very real.  Things seemed to happen at a natural time and pace for them and it wasn’t too over the top.  It would have been easy for the author to write the relationship a lot more like a Hollywood movie and I was very pleased that she resisted this urge and created a much more everyday relationship.  This is not to say that the relationship was boring, far from it! The many twists and turns and oppositions to their relationship kept the story very interesting.  I felt intimately involved, almost like I was a friend of the couple trying to look out for them, and wanted to keep reading to find out what happened next.  The relationship doesn’t dominate the story either, rather it is the group as a whole with their different backgrounds, experience of the war and how they interact with each other (often outside the class rules that were in place at the time) that makes the story a truly interesting one.  I found that I liked all of the characters individually, even Stella’s husband (who i felt sorry for), and I found i was very interested in discovering more about them and their history.

There is a twist towards the end which I didn’t see coming and helped move the book in a completely different direction to the one i was expecting.   I was very pleased with how it ended and thought it was a very appropriate ending for the book.

This is Lucy Foley’s second book, but it is the first I have read and I will definitely be reading more from her.  I believe her third book, Last Letters from Istanbul is available in March and I will very much be looking forward to reading it. If you are a fan of Victoria Hislop of Kate Morton you will very much enjoy this book.

Huge thanks to Ann Bissell and Harper Collins for my copy of this book, I thoroughly enjoyed it!

Author Information:


Lucy Foley studied English Literature at Durham and UCL universities. She then worked for several years as a fiction editor in the publishing industry – during which time she also wrote The Book of Lost and Found. Lucy now writes full-time, and is busy travelling (for research, naturally!) and working on her next novel.

Visit her Facebook page at www.facebook.com/LucyFoleyAuthor and follow her on Twitter @lucyfoleytweets and Instagram @Lucy_F_Author. Find her on Goodreads at https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7770523.Lucy_Foley.

#BlogTour: Fatal Masquerade by Vivian Conroy @VivWrites @HQDigitalUK

Product Details

I’m on the Blog Tour for Fatal Masquerade by Vivian Conroy today and am very lucky to have an exclusive extract to share with you! Fatal Masquerade is the 4th book in the Lady Alkmene series.

Book Information:

Lady Alkmene Callender has always loved grand parties, but when she receives an invitation to a masked ball thrown by Franklin Hargrove – oil magnate, aviation enthusiast and father of her best friend, Denise – she’s never seen such luxury. The estate is lit up with Chinese lanterns in the gardens, boats operated by footmen float across the pond and the guest list features the distinguished, rich and powerful!

But below the glamour, evil is lurking. When a dead body is discovered, it forces Lady Alkmene to throw off her mask and attempt to find the true killer before Denise’s family are accused. If only her partner, Jake Dubois, weren’t hiding something from her…

This case might just be more dangerous than either of them could have imagined.

Exclusive Extract:

There was nothing like a real orchestra to bring a waltz to life. Alkmene swayed among the many other guests, dressed up and laughing, breathing the building excitement on the air.

Outside, daylight was fading and the Chinese lanterns became ever more sparkly in the increasing darkness. Couples walked on the lawn, in deep conversation, some of them slipping away to the intimacy of the rose garden or to the boathouse to find a gondola.

Denise’s high-pitched laughter sounded close by. Alkmene twisted her neck to make out her friend among all the other dancers.

Denise was in the arms of a man dressed as a doge, with an elaborately embroidered mask. Most men had opted for plain black silk, but this man’s mask even had sequins that reflected the light from the chandelier above. It was not soft and pliable, but hard, as if it had been cast in plaster and then decorated. The nose stood out as a sharp beak, giving the man’s face a malicious appearance. A bird of prey circling the dance floor looking for victims.

Alkmene shook her head, reproaching herself for the sinister turn her thoughts often took, and returned her attention to her own dance partner. His warm baritone as he invited her to the dance had suggested he was Aunt Felicia’s husband, but now she was in his arms, he moved so nimbly that she began to doubt her earlier assumption. This man had to be younger.

He leaned over to her and said, ‘Have you known the Hargroves long?’ ‘I’m really more closely acquainted with Denise.’

His eyes seemed to glint with irony for a moment, and Alkmene felt uncomfortable that the tension between her and Denise might have been noticed. ‘Has she been looking forward to this night?’ he asked in a wistful tone.

Alkmene nodded. ‘She talked to me about it on several occasions and on the way over she was thrilled.’

She had the distinct impression her dancing partner was looking past her at Denise and the doge with the predatory appearance. Did her partner guess, as she had guessed herself, that this man was Denise’s reason for having craved this night?

Was Beak-mask also the reason Denise had quarrelled with her stepmother? Was he the man her father wouldn’t have wanted to come here?

It didn’t seem logical. Beak-mask wasn’t acting at all inconspicuously, keeping a low profile to escape attention from the other guests and his host.

On the contrary, he didn’t seem to care if his presence was noted by his host or not. Did he feel so secure behind his mask? After all, the masks would not be removed before two in the morning. And a socially sensitive man like Mr Hargrove would never create a scene by going over and asking this man to remove his mask on the spot, so Hargrove could see his face.

The dance ended, and the guests applauded. The sound rippled through the open doors and windows, rolling like waves into the gardens that were lit like a fairy tale.

Now she had stopped moving, Alkmene noticed that her legs were heavy and there was sweat under her mask and in her neck. She needed a break from dancing and from the imposing heat in the ballroom.

With a smile, she excused herself and walked to the open doors. As she drew near to them, she could already sense the cool upon her hot cheeks.

Outside, the night air crept along her neck and arms. She breathed in deep, listening to a call in the distance. Probably an owl, calling for his mate. The male and female had different calls, but Alkmene couldn’t tell them apart. If her father had been with her now, he would have scolded her that she had no head for the simplest of things, while she was always curious about things it wasn’t proper for a lady to know.

The terrace was built higher, broad steps ahead of her leading into the gardens below. To Alkmene’s left and right there were stone railings resting on decorated pillars.

From underneath one of these railings she heard a rustling sound. She walked over quickly, ensuring her shoes made no sound on the stone slabs.

Looking down, she spied a tall figure in a lilac dress hurrying away from the house. It had to be Mrs Zeilovsky. She had been the only woman present wearing that shade of dress. The feathers on the headband she wore moved in the breeze as she rushed along. It was a miracle she could walk so fast in her high heels.

Something moved in the shadow of a group of yews, and a figure stepped out, following Mrs Zeilovsky at a distance. He wore trousers, so it was a man, but he seemed too tall and trim to be the sinister psychiatrist. Who else could have an interest in Mrs Zeilovsky’s secretive behavior?

Alkmene frowned. Was Mrs Zeilovsky hurrying to some secret rendezvous? Was her lover following her at a discreet distance?

Or was the man in pursuit spying on her?

Under orders from her husband?


Ooh sounds good! If you like the sound of this extract the book is now available to purchase on Ebook from Amazon  for £1.99.  Or follow the blog tour and find out what these other bloggers are saying about Fatal Masquerade!

#BlogTour: Sleep No More: Six Murderous Tales by P.D James @portassoph @FaberBooks

Sleep no more front cover

Today I’m on the Blog Tour for Sleep No More: Six Murderous Tales by “The Queen of Crime” P.D James.  Sleep no more is out on the 5th October in Hardback and E book and is being released as a companion to another Short Stories collection The Mistletoe Murders and other stories.

Book Blurb:

The acknowledged ‘Queen of Crime’, P. D. James, was a past master of the short story, weaving together motifs of the Golden Age of crime-writing with deep psychological insight to create gripping, suspenseful tales.

As the six murderous tales unfold, the dark motive of revenge is revealed at the heart of each. Bullying schoolmasters receive their comeuppance, unhappy marriages and childhoods are avenged, a murder in the small hours of Christmas Day puts an end to the vicious new lord of the manor, and, from the safety of his nursing home, an octogenarian exerts exquisite retribution.

The punishments inflicted on the guilty are fittingly severe, but here they are meted out by the unseen forces of natural justice rather than the institutions of the law. Once again, P. D. James shows her expert control of the short-story form, conjuring motives and scenarios with complete conviction, and each with a satisfying twist in the tail.

My Review:

I haven’t read an awful lot of short stories but when i was given the opportunity to review PD James’s new book I jumped at the chance.

Sleep No More is a collection of 6 short stories each involving a murder and each describing the deviousness of the characters as they plot out the perfect murder.  Some of the methods used and the planning of the murder is extraordinarily clever and was a bit of an eye opener to read about.

The stories included a large variety of characters that I had mixed feelings for.  Whilst i felt very sorry for the jilted husband in “The Victim” and the little girl in “The Girl Who Loved Graveyards” I hated the schoolboy in “The Yoyo” as i found him very obnoxious and full of himself.  I think this character is quite real though as I have encountered a few public school children like this.  These being short stories there wasn’t a lot of time for the reader to get to know the characters which i felt was a shame as i would like to have spent a bit more time with some of the characters, discovering more about them and what makes them tick.

All the stories appear to be set in the past and have quite a lot of historical detail in them at times that helps the reader imagine the setting for the stories.  In one the life of a public school in 1930 is well described and in another the stigma of divorce is mentioned giving the reader a glimpse into the life and problems of the characters.  These details were very interesting and helped me to image the characters and story better in my mind.

In my personal opinion the stories get betters as the book goes along.  I definitely enjoyed the later stories more than the earlier ones.  This isn’t to stay that the earlier stories were bad just that the later ones were more my style of story and had a little more going on in them.

PD James in the author of many full length novels and short story collections.  I have read quite a few of her books in the past and will definitely be reading more in the future.

Thank you to Sophie Portas and Faber & Faber for my copy of this book and for inviting me onto the blog tour.

About The Author:

PD james pic

P. D. James (1920-2014) was born in Oxford and educated at Cambridge High School for Girls. From 1949 to 1968 she worked in the National Health Service and subsequently in the Home Office, first in the Police Department and later in the Criminal Policy Department. All that experience was used in her novels. She was a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature and of the Royal Society of Arts and served as a Governor of the BBC, a member of the Arts Council, where she was Chairman of the Literary Advisory Panel, on the Board of the British Council and as a magistrate in Middlesex and London. She was an Honorary Bencher of the Honourable Society of the Inner Temple. She won awards for crime writing in Britain, America, Italy and Scandinavia, including the Mystery Writers of America Grandmaster Award and The National Arts Club Medal of Honor for Literature (US). She received honorary degrees from seven British universities, was awarded an OBE in 1983 and was created a life peer in 1991. In 1997 she was elected President of the Society of Authors, stepping down from the post in August 2013.

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#BlogTour: Maria In The Moon by Louise Beech @LouiseWriter @OrendaBooks @annecater

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I’m absolutely delighted to be on the Maria In The Moon blog tour today! I have been a huge fan of Louise Beech’s books since reading The Mountain In My Shoe so I jumped at the chance to be on the blog tour and help spread the word about her brilliant books.  Maria In the Moon is out now in paperback and e-book.

Book Blurb:

Thirty-two-year-old Catherine Hope has a great memory. But she can’t remember everything. She can’t remember her ninth year. She can’t remember when her insomnia started. And she can’t remember why everyone stopped calling her Catherine-Maria.

With a promiscuous past, and licking her wounds after a painful breakup, Catherine wonders why she resists anything approaching real love. But when she loses her home to the devastating deluge of 2007 and volunteers at Flood Crisis, a devastating memory emerges… and changes everything.

Dark, poignant and deeply moving, Maria in the Moon is an examination of the nature of memory and truth, and the defenses we build to protect ourselves, when we can no longer hide…

My Review:

I always feel slightly apprehensive when reading a book that has had so many fantastic reviews from my fellow bloggers as it can raise your expectations leaving you expecting a lot from a book before you have even started.  Fortunately I have now joined the long line of fans for this book and have been recommending it to everyone who will listen!

Maria is a fantastic main character. I felt a lot of sympathy for her and the situations that she finds herself in.  She’s a very real character in that she’s not perfect and she does make mistakes but this helps increase the readers empathy for her as we have all found ourselves in similar situations!  I loved her sense of humour, particularly her hilarious observations of other people which had me laughing out loud at times.  It was very poignant to read about her broken relationship with her mother, which is very fraught and some of the awful things her mother says about her. It was hard to read about her trying to not let these things upset her and pretend not to care.  The state of this relationship is made worse by the loss of a much-loved father and you really feel for her when she makes comparisons between how things are now compared with the past.

I thought it was quite brave of the author to write about an event that happened so recently and would still be remembered by a lot of people, including of course people who were flooded themselves.  It was interesting to read about the many ways in which people were affected by the flood and how long after the waters had receded the floods continued to have an impact on their lives.  Simple things in everyday life, like being able to access public transport and being able to sleep when its raining were suddenly a challenge to people which I hadn’t fully considered before.

Maria’s work at the call center added an interesting slant to the story, as it allowed the reader to see a different, kinder version of Maria then what she normally showed to the world.  She really seemed to care about the callers and want to help them.  It was quite poignant at times to read about her shifts at the call center as I felt that she was in need of a bit of love and care too at times which she wasn’t always receiving.  Some of the things that people phoned up about were hilarious as they were quite random and sometimes not even flood related.  This caused some of the more comic and memorable moments in the book for me that I have remembered long after finishing reading.

This book is so beautifully written.  It really draws you in from the first page and gets inside your mind so that you are constantly thinking about it even when you aren’t reading it.  There is always something happening, some mini drama in Maria’s life that keeps you reading to find out how it works out and because, you care about Maria and want her to have a happy ending. You experience every emotion alongside Maria as she tries to work out where she is going in life and what she wants.  I laughed, I cried, I was frustrated but most importantly I loved reading about Maria’s life and I was very sad when the book ended.

Huge thanks to Orenda books and Anne Cater for my copy of the book and for inviting me on the blog tour.  This will definitely be a book I will think about, and recommend to people, for ages!

About The Author:

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Louise Beech has been writing since she could physically hold a pen. She
regularly writes travel pieces for the Hull Daily Mail, where she was a columnist for
ten years. Her short fiction has won the Glass Woman Prize, the Eric Hoffer Award
for Prose, and the Aesthetica Creative Works competition, as well as shortlisting
twice for the Bridport Prize. Louise lives with her husband and children on the
outskirts of Hull – the UK’s 2017 City of Culture – and loves her job as Front of
House Usher at Hull Truck Theatre, where her first play was performed in 2012.
Her debut novel, How to be Brave, was a number one bestseller on Kindle in the
UK and Australia, and a Guardian Readers’ Pick in 2015. The Mountain in my Shoe
longlisted for the Guardian Not The Booker Prize.

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#Blogtour: Quieter Than Killing by Sarah Hilary @sarah_hilary @KatieVEBrown @Headlinepg

Product Details

I’m thrilled to be kicking off the blog tour today for Quieter Than Killing by Sarah Hilary.  This is the 4th book in the DI Rome series but can easily be read as a standalone which what I have done.  Quieter Than Killing is now out in paperback and e-book, the e-book it is currently only 99p.

Book Description:

It’s winter, the nights are dark and freezing, and a series of seemingly random assaults is pulling DI Marnie Rome and DS Noah Jake out onto streets of London. When Marnie’s family home is ransacked, there are signs that the burglary can have only been committed by someone who knows her. Then a child goes missing, yet no-one has reported it. Suddenly, events seem connected, and it’s personal.

Someone out there is playing games. It is time for both Marnie and Noah to face the truth about the creeping, chilling reaches of a troubled upbringing. Keeping quiet can be a means of survival, but the effects can be as terrible as killing.

My Review:

When you start reading a crime novel you don’t expect the book to be overly emotional, but half way through Quieter Than Killing I found myself crying over what was happening in the book.  I think this is down to Sarah Hilary making the reader care about her characters.  She invests a lot of time in making sure the reader understands them, knows about their background and what makes them tick.  Through doing this the reader feels like they know the characters quite intimately and therefore are more upset when events transpire against them.  I found this book particularly poignant as two of the characters were children who were going through quite a hard time.  It was very difficult to read about their experiences and stay emotionally detached, particularly as I was imagining them as my own children at times.  I desperately wanted them to have a happy ending and kept reading to try to find out what was going to happen to them next.

The character development in the book is very well done.  I think I changed my opinion a number of times on each one as the story developed.  This was great at providing an eye opener at times as to how judgmental we can all be about certain members of society.  I started off not liking DI Rome very much which is unusual for me as I am normally instantly a fan of strong female characters but she just seemed a little remote and cold to me at first, plus she annoyed me at times with how she was trying to solve the case which made her come across as being quite arrogant at times.  However I soon came to like her drive and her thoroughness when it came to solving a case.

The case is quite a murky one from the beginning that builds and builds to an almost unbearable crescendo as we learn of all the different characters involved, what their connection and motivation is.  At its peak my head did start to hurt a little as I struggled to stay on top of all the different suspects but then it all becomes clear before a major twist just afterwards sends the reader scrambling in yet another direction.  I thought this was brilliantly done and it definitely kept me on my toes as i thought i had finally figured it all out before the rug was pulled out from under me again with a new revelation- well played Sarah Hilary! There was never a dull moment in the book as there always seemed to be something happening somewhere which really kept my interest and made the book very hard to put down.  I found myself reading late into the night, even swapping to the kindle version so i could continue reading in the dark.  The story is almost impulsive at times as the reader struggles to try to work out what is happening and who could be behind everything.

This is the fourth book in the DI Rome series but it is the first book of Sarah Hilary’s that I have read but it won’t be my last as i really enjoyed her style of writing and the human slant she puts in her writing.

Huge thanks to Katie Brown and Headline for providing me with a copy of the book and for letting me be on the blog tour.

Author Information:

Sarah Hilary

Sarah Hilary has worked as a bookseller, and with the Royal Navy. Her debut, SOMEONE ELSE’S SKIN, won Theakstons Crime Novel of the Year 2015 and was a World Book Night selection for 2016. The Observer’s Book of the Month (“superbly disturbing”) and a Richard & Judy Book Club bestseller, it has been published worldwide. NO OTHER DARKNESS, the second in the series was shortlisted for a Barry Award in the US. Her DI Marnie Rome series continues with TASTES LIKE FEAR (2016) QUIETER THAN KILLING (2017), with COME AND FIND ME out in April 2018.

Follow Sarah on Twitter at @Sarah_Hilary



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My Mother’s Shadow by Nikola Scott @nikola_scott @Bookish_Becky @headlinepg

My Mother's Shadow

I’m so excited to share my review of the fantastic My Mother’s Shadow by Nikola Scott.  I really enjoyed this book and it has definitely been one that has stayed with me a long time after reading it.  My Mother’s Shadow is now available in paperback and eBook where it is currently only 99p.

Book Description:

Hartland House has always been a faithful keeper of secrets…

1958. Sent to beautiful Hartland to be sheltered from her mother’s illness, Liz spends the summer with the wealthy Shaw family. They treat Liz as one of their own, but their influence could be dangerous…

Now. Addie believes she knows everything about her mother Elizabeth and their difficult relationship until her recent death. When a stranger appears claiming to be Addie’s sister, she is stunned. Is everything she’s been told about her early life a lie?

How can you find the truth about the past if the one person who could tell you is gone? Addie must go back to that golden summer her mother never spoke of…and the one night that changed a young girl’s life for ever.

My Review:

My Mother’s Shadow is definitely a book that is going to stay with me for a long time.  The poignant story line is deeply affecting, especially when read as a mother of two children, I found that i often had a lump in my throat whilst reading about Elizabeth’s horrific experiences.  It’s hard to believe that people judged and treated people so cruelly over so little without realizing the damaging effects that it would have on all concerned.  I’m very thankful that thinking has now moved on and we now live in a much more open-minded society.

The main character, Addie, was very realistic and hugely likeable and I found myself really drawn to her story and plight throughout the book.  The transformation she goes through is brilliant and I enjoyed watching her grow in confidence and start to stand up for herself, doing what she wanted to do rather than what she thought others wanted her to do.  I felt for her with her difficult relationship with her mother, who she felt she never pleased and was never good enough for.  It was hard reading about how this had affected her over the years and it was good to see her come out of her mother’s shadow in this regard and become a much more confident and together person.  Her relationship with Phoebe and Andrew was lovely to read about as i felt that in their presence we got to see the really Addie and i loved how much more confident and unafraid she was around them.

The descriptions of the idyllic summer that Elizabeth spent with the Shaws was beautifully described and I really felt that I could picture those lazy, summer days in my mind’s eye.  It was lovely to see a different, care free side to Elizabeth and to watch her grow throughout the summer in her new-found acceptance.  Some of the games and mischief the children got up to was stuff that i used to enjoy doing when i was a kid, which helped create a wonderful sense of nostalgia for me and the fun i used to have.

Unusually for me with a book with two time-lines I found that i enjoyed them both equally.  Normally I am rushing through one part of the story to find out what is happening in the other, normally older timeline.  I think this is down to the author cleverly sharing out the facts and reveals between the two timelines so as to keep both interesting whereas i don’t believe this is always the case with other books.  This also helped keep the story really interesting and I found that i kept reading, faster and faster as the book progressed in order to find out what had happened.  Sometimes one of the story lines revealed a clue that wasn’t yet known in the other story line and then i found myself on tender hooks, waiting for it to be discovered and to see what their reaction would be to the new information.  This helped create a lot of tension and anticipation in the book which made the book very easy to read.

Though it is hard to believe, this is Nikola Scott’s debut novel and I very much look forward to reading more from her.  I felt the comparison with Kate Morton & Rachel Hore was very much deserved and feel sure that if you like their books you will enjoy this one!

Huge thank you to Becky Hunter and Headline for providing me with a copy of this book.

Author Information:

Nikola Scott

Nikola Scott was born and raised in Germany and studied at university there. Having been obsessed with books from a young age, Nikola moved to New York City after her Master’s degree to begin her first job in book publishing – a career in which she could fully indulge her love of fiction. She spent ten years working in publishing in New York and then in London, editing other people’s books, before she decided to take the leap into becoming a full-time writer herself. She now lives in Frankfurt with her husband and two sons.

MY MOTHER’S SHADOW is her debut novel.

You can visit Nikola’s website www.nikolascott.com and you can find her on Twitter @nikola_scott and Facebook/NikolaScottAuthor.





#BlogTour #Spotlight The Snow Globe by Judith Kinghorn @judithkinghorn @canelo_co @ElliePilcher95


Today i’m thrilled to be doing a spotlight feature for The Snow Globe by Judith Kinghorn.  Due to personal circumstances I’ve unfortunately not had a chance to read this book yet, but hope to do so at the earliest opportunity as it sounds right up my street.


Title: The Snow Globe

Author Name: Judith Kinghorn

Previous Books (if applicable): The Echo of Twilight

Genre: Historical Fiction

Release Date: 25th September 2017

Publisher:  Canelo


A beautiful story of enduring love and heartbreaking choices.

As Christmas 1926 approaches, the Forbes family are preparing to host a celebration at Eden Hall. Eighteen-year-old Daisy is preoccupied by a sense of change in the air. Overnight, her relationship with Stephen Jessop, the housekeeper’s son, has shifted and every encounter seems fraught with tension. Before the festivities are over, Daisy has received a declaration of love, a proposal and a kiss – from three different men. Unable to bear the confusion she flees to London and stays with her elder sister.

By the following summer, Daisy has bowed to the persistence of the man who proposed to her the previous year. When the family reunite for a party at Eden Hall and Stephen is once more in her life, it is clear to Daisy she is committing to the wrong person. Yet she also believes that family secrets mean she has no choice but to follow her head instead of her heart. Will love conquer all, or is Daisy’s fate already written?


Amazon: Amazon

Kobo: Kobo

Goodreads: Goodreads



Judith Kinghorn is the author of four novels: The Echo of Twilight, The Snow Globe, The Memory of Lost Senses and The Last Summer. She was born in Northumberland, educated in the Lake District, and is a graduate in English and History of Art. She lives in Hampshire, England, with her husband and two children.


Judith Kinghorn is available on a variety of social media platforms.  Including:

Twitter: @judithkinghorn

Facebook: Writer Judith Kinghorn

Website: https://www.judithkinghornwriter.com


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