BLOG TOUR ~ The Lost Sister by Tracy Buchanan

Hi Everyone,

Today is my stop on the Blog Tour for The Lost Sister by Tracy Buchanan where I have an extract from her novel. I was thrilled to be asked by Sabah Khan from Avon Books to take part along with some other fab book bloggers. You can find out who else is taking part in this fabulous Blog Tour at the end of this extract so without further ado, here it is:

Or maybe not. He was a bit of a shallow idiot after all.

‘I’m pleased you brought him in,’ Becky says.

The girl crosses her arms, frowning. ‘It’s a her.’

Becky peers at the mother who gives a little shrug.

‘Ah. Her. Sorry,’ Becky says. ‘Well, I’ll tell you straight off, it’s

not serious. You managed to bring her in just in time.’

‘What’s wrong with Stanley?’ the girl asks.

Becky points to the small white spots on Stanley’s fi n. ‘Fin

rot,’ she explains. The girl’s big blue eyes widen. ‘But no need to

worry!’ Becky quickly adds. ‘Thanks to your vigilance, Stanley

will be just fi ne.’

The girl smiles, lighting up her young face.

Her mother squeezes her shoulder. ‘See? What did I tell you?’

Becky watches them, unable to stop herself feeling a tinge of

jealousy. ‘So,’ she says, clearing her throat. ‘Do you have some salt

at home?’

The girl peers up at her mother, who nods.

‘Good. That’s how we’ll treat Stanley. A few teaspoons of salt

in her tank each day and she’ll be as right as rain within the week.’

Becky turns away to tap some notes into her computer. ‘It’s just

as well Stanley has such a loving owner. Fish are so important.

You know they were here fi rst, way before us, even way before

dinosaurs? And yet look at them,’ she says, gesturing towards the

tank. ‘They’re still here. Quite a feat.’

‘They’re the best pets in the world,’ the girl says stoically as her

mother places the tank back in the box.

‘I’d agree,’ Becky replies. ‘But my three dogs might get a bit

upset. I think that’s it for Stanley today. Just call if you have any

problems.’

BLOG TOUR ~ The New Girl by Ingrid Alexandra

Hi Everyone,

Today is my stop on the Blog Tour for The New Girl by Ingrid Alexandra where I have an extract from her novel. I was thrilled to be asked by Sabah Khan from Avon Books to take part along with some other fab book bloggers. You can find out who else is taking part in this fabulous Blog Tour at the end of this extract so without further ado, here it is:

As I approach the entry doors to the apartment block, a pungent, spicy scent invades my nostrils. It’s probably coming from the sixth-floor apartment with the balcony

directly above ours. The couple who live there are always cooking something exotic, in between screaming at each other and having noisy sex. But there’s something not

quite right about this smell. It’s as though something has started to rot.

Holding a hand to my nose, I reach for the letter box to find it unlocked, the flap hanging from its hinges. Letters are scattered on the slate tiles below, one with a filmy, brown

stain on the corner. Slick-skinned and weary from my walk, I’m thinking only of a cold shower, and it isn’t until I’ve gathered the mail, shut and locked the flap and taken the

lift to the fifth floor that I stop to think.

Why was the letter box unlocked? Cat and I never unlock it; it seems strange anyone bothered to open it in the first place seeing as the envelopes usually protrude from the slot.

A scruffy beige suitcase with a hole in the seam greets me as I enter the apartment. It sags sadly against the white hallway wall like a stain. Rachel arrived at seven-thirty

this morning, deposited her belongings, and immediately rushed off to work. She didn’t bring much, as the room came furnished. So, all day today, the few items comprising

Rachel Cummings’ worldly possessions have lain where they fell, awaiting her return.

Flicking on the kettle and glancing at the clock ( fi ve-oh-six!), I change my mind. Just a glass or two to end the day, I tell myself as I open the fridge, take out a bottle and slosh the remains of last night’s Pinot Grigio into a wine glass. There’s plenty more in the bar fridge in the laundry room, I’m sure. Leftovers from the party.

BLOG TOUR ~ One Little Lie by Sam Carrington

Hi Everyone,

Today is my stop on the Blog Tour for One Little Lie by Sam Carrington where I have an extract from Sam's latest novel. I was thrilled to be asked by Sabah Khan from Avon Books to take part along with some other fab book bloggers. You can find out who else is taking part in this fabulous Blog Tour at the end of this extract so without further ado, here it is:

The chairs form an almost perfect circle. I manoeuvre the last two

so they have equal distance between them. It’s important I try to

maintain the personal space of those who’ll be seated here.

Satisfi ed, I step back to check. Only one chair is different – double

the room either side of it – separated from the rest of them. It’s

also the only soft-furnished chair, the others being brown plastic.

This is my chair.

I’m their leader. I need to be seen easily by all the members

– all eyes will need to be able to fi nd mine. Eye contact is so

important. That’s how they can see my empathy. My pain. Share

it all with me.

Ten minutes left to wait.

It’s taken a few months of organisation: a lot of online chats,

convincing others there was need for in-person interaction rather

than virtual, fi nding an appropriate venue. Hopefully there’ll be

a good turnout; at least six. I’ve optimistically put out ten chairs.

Not a big group, but that doesn’t matter. Not to begin with. It

will grow, once people realise how much they’re gaining. How

much help and support it will offer them. And then they’ll travel

from further afi eld to be a part of my group, a part of each

other’s lives.

Five minutes.

A fizz of excitement bubbles inside my stomach. Most

people wouldn’t understand that. Not with the type of group

I’m running.

But this means a lot to me.

This is going to help redeem me.

‘Hello.’ A quiet, hesitant voice drifts in from the outer door of

the church hall.

I straighten, my muscles hardening for a few seconds before I

recover. I deftly smooth my black pencil-skirt with both hands,

and pat my hair – the new curly style is taking some getting used

to. I take small, quick steps towards the voice.

BLOG TOUR ~ I, Witness by Niki Mackay

Hi Everyone,

Today is my stop on the Blog Tour for I, Witness by Niki Mackay where I have an extract from Niki's latest novel. I was thrilled to be asked by Tracy Fenton of Compulsive Readers to take part along with some other fab book bloggers. You can find out who else is taking part in this fabulous Blog Tour at the end of this extract so without further ado, here it is:

Kate’s family aren’t exactly the Waltons. Dead mum, crazy sister, murderer. I’m not convinced the dad and brother are much better. It’s a lot of misfortune to hit one unit. Unlucky is usually an isolated incident. I wonder if that’s why the shrink ended up keeping hold of Kate’s case. Maybe the material was just too rich to walk away from.

Emma’s done her research on Dean, so I have a good idea who he is before I go to meet him. He’s renowned in his field as one of the best criminal psychologists currently working in the UK. I’m quite sure I’ve read a few of his papers over the years. He must spend the majority of his time in courtrooms these days. He gets called in to give evidence fairly frequently.

I was surprised when Emma told me his office is in Kingston.

I’d expected a Harley Street address. Actually, it’s not that far from my own but certainly a better end of town, heading out towards Ham with views of the Thames.

I am a few minutes early and stand next to my car smoking. I’m working under the admittedly stupid assumption that smoking outside means the smell won’t stick to me. I know it doesn’t work but I put the fag out, chew a mint and spray YSL everywhere anyway. Live in fucking hope right?

A bland blonde receptionist greets me with a halfsmile and rings through to let Hall know I’ve arrived. I wait, watching a screen with no sound showing twenty four hour news. I watch the scroll along the bottom and feel suitably depressed by it. Bland blonde’s fingers run chaotically over the keyboard.

Clacketyclack, clacketyclack. I glance at the clock. Hall is ten minutes late. The clackety clack is rubbing my last fucking nerve.

I’m about to make a complaint about his lateness to her when the door opens. The best looking man I’ve ever seen in real life comes out from an adjoining door. He’s smiling apologetically.

‘I’m so sorry. A patient called and I didn’t feel I could just let him . . . Anyway, sorry I’m late.’ His suit is structured like a second skin and I watch him appreciatively from behind as I follow him into his office.

He sits at his desk and waves me into a chair opposite. I slump and my oversized shoulder bag slides loudly to the floor.

He raises an eyebrow. I grin, aware my lion’s mane hair is likely all over the place. I wonder if I have mascara goop too. I wish I’d checked now. Fuck it. He asks if I want anything to drink.

I say no. He brandishes a bottle of water at me. ‘I’m on the good stuff.’

‘Health kick?’

He sighs, ‘I do try.’ Judging by his pristine condition, I reckon he more than tries. I’m pretty sure his shoulders are a result of some serious gym hours.

I smile. ‘Me too.’ He doesn’t know my only liquid intake is coffee.

‘So you’re here to talk about Kate?’ He smiles.

‘I am, yes.’

His smile widens. ‘I was so glad when I found out she was being released. Now she can start living her life.’

‘How did you find out?’

He takes a sip of his water. ‘She told me. I assume you know we’ve maintained a friendship of sorts?’

BLOG TOUR ~ Her Name Was Rose by Claire Allan

Hi Everyone,

Today is my stop on the Blog Tour for Her name Was Rose by Claire Allan where I have a guest post from Claire. I was thrilled to be asked by Sabah Khan from Avon Books to take part along with some other fab book bloggers. You can find out who else is taking part in this fabulous Blog Tour at the end of this extract so without further ado, here it is:

Life has a way of directing you where you need to go, often when you least expected.

At the end of 2015, I had finished a difficult year, emotionally, physically and professionally.

It had started with a battle with Sepsis which had a long term effect on my health, which in itself had a knock on effect on my ability to keep up the pace in a busy newsroom.

The year ended knowing that my much beloved grandmother, who had been fighting a losing battle with Alzheimer’s over the course of the previous 12 years, was in the final days of her life.

I felt anchorless and was looking for a sign of what to do next. A brush with a serious illness had made me re-evaluate my priorities and, as I was heading face on towards my 40th birthday, it was a time when I wanted a new focus for a new decade.

On January 8, my beloved grandmother passed away. On the same day I was made aware that an opportunity to take voluntary redundancy from my 17 year journalism career was being made available.

I felt that morning, as we tried to come to terms with my grandmother’s death, that she was giving me a sign.

I could almost hear her voice telling me clearly, and strongly that I was to follow my dreams. Now was the time when I had to take a chance – focus what energy I had in a positive direction and work on moving my writing career to the next level.

It’s sounds a bit strange, maybe, but it felt as clear a sign as I was ever likely to get that now was the chance to take a risk – even though I have always been one to play everything safe.

But it wasn’t enough that I simply decided to walk away from my career and focus on writing, I decided it was also the time to start writing something a little different.

I wanted to push myself. To challenge myself. I decided to write “a serious book” and I spent six months loving the process of writing a book about adoption and the threads which tie us altogether.
I loved it and believe in it.

It was rejected by every publisher I sent it to and whereas in the past I’d have taken that as a cast iron sign to, literally, not give up the day job – on this occasion I was sure I could still here my grandmother’s voice telling me not give up and to keep going.

So I did, and the book which is now ‘Her Name Was Rose’ started to spill out onto the page. It was as if someone was whispering in my ear, telling me to keep going, to trust my gut and trust that I had made the right decision.

In the end I wrote a book I’m exceptionally proud of, and I know someone is smiling down on me. If you wondered, her name was Anna. 

REVIEW ~ My Sister's Bones by Nuala Ellwood

With huge thanks to Katy Loftus and Penguin Random House, I received a copy of this in exchange for an honest review......

Are You Brave Enough To Go Back?

Kate Rafter is a successful war reporter who has been based in Syria and has seen some atrocities which would make your hair curl but she's the strong one. The one who escaped Herne Bay and the memories it holds but her sister Sally didn't. Instead, she drinks quite heavily. But when their mother dies, Kate is forced to return to the old family home, back to where feelings run quite deep from memories of her childhood with her sister Sally but on Kate's first night she is woken by a terrifying scream where Kate has stumbled upon a secret but what is it? Is she strong enough to uncover the truth.......and make it out alive?

Well, I LOVED this book and it definitely wasn't what I was expecting as the copy of the book I received didn't have a blurb on it, I kind of went in blind and in a way I like doing that when reading a book where either I don't know much about the book or nothing at all, it adds to the element of surprise.  It does cover quite a lot of topics which people may find hard to read but don't let this put you off as it is really a brilliant read.  I don't want to say too much about this book as I'd be afraid of saying too much apart from saying just go and read it, you definitely won't be disappointed & I CAN'T wait to see this book come to life on the screen soon. I'm really looking forward to what Nuala has in store for us next but no pressure.

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED.

My sister's Bones is available from all good bookshops, libraries, on audio and on Kindle where it is currently £7.99 at the time of publication of this review.

BLOG TOUR ~ One Good Reason by Susan Stairs

Hi Everyone,


Today is my stop on the Blog Tour for One Good Reason by Susan Stairs where I have a guest piece about her Writing Space. I was thrilled to be asked by Elaine Egan from Hachette Ireland to take part along with some other fab book bloggers so without further ado, here it is:

My Writing Space

Not every writer is fortunate enough to have their own private writing room.  In the early days of a writing career, more often than not, where you write is wherever you can clear enough space for a laptop. You might sit at the kitchen table when dinner is over, or prop yourself up on your bed, the laptop nestled on a pillow stretched across your knees. While many wonderful novels may have been written in such surroundings, it’s not exactly ideal. I wrote almost all of my first novel The Story of Before on my bed (note ‘on’ rather than ‘in’. Important distinction) as, at the time, my bedroom was the only place I could find the peace and quiet I needed. I don’t think my writing suffered but my back certainly did. By the time I began to write my second novel The Boy Between, we’d reconfigured the house and the bedroom had become an office/writing room. Now, I had my own desk, a proper office chair and built-in bookshelves.  Most importantly though, I had a view out the window where I could see blue and green. For me, the view from the room where I write is as important as the room itself. Staring for hours at a bright, white screen barely two feet away can be draining. Being able to look up and switch focus to the trees and sky outside is both restful for the eyes and inspiring for the mind.

    When I’m sitting in my chair, staring at my computer screen, I become part of the space that I’m occupying. It settles around me somehow, and it’s almost as though I don’t exist independently from it. I am immersed in my own world – the one I have imagined. That’s why, for me, it’s important that I have a window out of which I have an appealing view of the real world. Looking up to the sky or across a green lawn, I’m brought to the surface of reality for a few moments and my gaze drifts into the distance, away from the intensity of whatever plot point I’m working on.

        There’s a sentimental attachment to the place where characters, storylines and settings are imagined and brought to life and it can be a wrench to have to give that up, for whatever reason. When we downsized to a two-bedroomed apartment a couple of years ago, I had to say goodbye to the writing room that I loved. It was difficult. I had already started to write One Good Reason and it was hard to imagine working anywhere else. Would the move affect my writing? What if I didn’t like my new work space? As it turned out, I wrote many thousands of words which I subsequently ditched. Was that as a result of the move? I can’t exactly say. The adjustment did take time but I’m very fortunate that I love my new writing place. It’s bright and airy; floor-to-ceiling windows look out on a landscaped green area with cherry and rowan trees and wavy bamboos; and, as we’re on the third floor, I can see so much sky.  

    I have newly-built shelves to house all my books – another important element in a writing space. Often, while I’m working, I might think about a particular novel that I’ve read and I’ll take it down and flick through its pages to remind myself how it’s structured, how the author uses dialogue or deals with the passage of time. I can’t know if any of my books are sitting on the shelves of other writers’ spaces, but it’s nice to think that they might be.