Today on my blog I’m sharing a spotlight for Rarity From The Hollow by Robert Eggleton.  This book cleverly blends science fiction with tragedy and comedy.  Some people have been describing it as a children’s story for adults.  It book tackles a number of social issues including poverty, domestic violence and child abuse.  All profits for this book are donated to The Children’s Home Society of West Virginia for the prevention of child maltreatment.

Rarity in the hollow is available to buy from  Amazon, Barnes & Noble & directly from Dog Horn Publishing.

Book Synopsis:

Lacy Dawn’s father relives the Gulf War, her mother’s teeth are rotting out, and her best friend is murdered by the meanest daddy on Earth. Life in the hollow is hard. But she has one advantage — an android was inserted into her life and is working with her to cure her parents. But, he wants something in exchange. It’s up to her to save the Universe. Lacy Dawn doesn’t mind saving the universe, but her family and friends come first. Rarity from the Hollow is adult literary science fiction filled with tragedy, comedy and satire.

Praise for Rarity in The Hollow:

“The most enjoyable science fiction novel I have read in years.”—Temple Emmet Williams, Author, former editor for Reader’s Digest

. “…a hillbilly version of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy…what I would have thought impossible; taken serious subjects like poverty, ignorance, abuse…tongue-in-cheek humor without trivializing them…profound…a funny book that most sci-fi fans will thoroughly enjoy.” — Awesome Indies (Gold Medal)

“…sneaks up you and, before you know it, you are either laughing like crazy or crying in despair, but the one thing you won’t be is unmoved…a brilliant writer.” — Readers’ Favorite (Gold Medal)

“Rarity from the Hollow is an original and interesting story of a backwoods girl who saves the Universe in her fashion. Not for the prudish.” —Piers Anthony, New York Times bestselling author

“… The author gives us much pause for thought as we read this uniquely crafted story about some real life situations handled in very unorthodox ways filled with humor, sarcasm, heartfelt situations and fun.” — Fran Lewis: Just Reviews/MJ Magazine

About The Author:

Robert Eggleton has served as a children s advocate for over forty years. He is best known for his investigative reports about children s programs, most of which were published by the West Virginia Supreme Court where he worked from 1982 through 1997. Today, he is a recently retired psychotherapist from the mental health center in Charleston, West Virginia. Rarity from the Hollow is his debut novel and its release followed publication of three short Lacy Dawn Adventures in magazines: Wingspan Quarterly, Beyond Centauri, and Atomjack Science Fiction. Author proceeds have been donated to a child abuse prevention program operated by Children s Home Society of West Virginia.

You can connect with Robert on Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads & the authors website.

 

 

 

 

 

So excited to be able to share with you my review for The Man Who Died by Antti Tuomainen.  I really enjoyed this book and thoroughly recommend it.  The Man who died is out now in ebook and paperback and available here.

Book Blurb:

A successful entrepreneur in the mushroom industry, Jaakko Kaunismaa is a man in his prime. At just 37 years of age, he is shocked when his doctor tells him that he’s dying. What is more, the cause is discovered to be prolonged exposure to toxins; in other words, someone has slowly but surely been poisoning him. Determined to find out who wants him dead, Jaakko embarks on a suspenseful rollercoaster journey full of unusual characters, bizarre situations and unexpected twists. With a nod to Fargo and the best elements of the Scandinavian noir tradition, The Man Who Died is a page-turning thriller brimming with the blackest comedy surrounding life and death, and love and betrayal, marking a stunning new departure for the King of Helsinki Noir.

My Review:

When reading a book about a man who is dying from poisoning, the last thing you expect is for the story to be funny.  However that is the thing that stood out the most in this book.  The story is laced with dark humor the whole way through and had me laughing out loud at numerous occasions.  The main Character’s actions, thoughts and observations are so bizarre, over the top and astute that it’s hard not to find them hilarious.  This helps lighten some otherwise intense situations throughout the book.

I really like the main character Jaakko.  I found him to be a very relatable guy who you can’t help feeling sorry for, whilst simultaneously routing for him to get the answers that he wants and hope that he has a happier outcome then expected.  His reaction to his diagnosis is quite a brave one as is his determination to solve his own murder and get some answers.  It’s fair to say he is not a natural detective and his attempts to find out the truth and to manipulate situations to his advantage are very funny.  You can’t help feeling slightly affectionate towards him when things don’t go according to plan for him.  He also decides to try and sabotage the competition which leads to some funny situations as he finds himself in some dodgy situations.

The book includes some beautiful descriptions of Finland’s natural beauty.  I felt i could really picture the scenery in my mind’s eye and would love to visit there at some point.  There is also some information about the mushroom industry which was interesting to read about as i hadn’t thought much about what was involved.

Despite the humor there is a lot of action and tension in the book as Jaakko attempts to find out the truth about his poisoning and the tricky situations he finds himself in whilst trying to sabotage the competition.  There are a lot of twists and turn that keep the reader guessing and wanting to keep reading to find out what is happening.

This isn’t Antti tuomainen’s first book but it is the first one I’ve read, though it definitely won’t be my last.  If you like unusual thrillers with some dark humor you will enjoy this book.

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

About The Author:

Finnish author Antti Tuomainen was an award-winning copywriter when he made his literary debut in 2007 as a suspense author. The critically acclaimed My Brother’s Keeper was published two years later. In 2011 Tuomainen’s third novel, The Healer, was awarded the Clue Award for ‘Best Finnish Crime Novel of 2011’ and was shortlisted for the Glass Key Award. The Finnish press labelled The Healer – the story of a writer desperately searching for his missing wife in a post-apocalyptic Helsinki – ‘unputdownable.’ Two years later in 2013 they crowned Tuomainen ‘The King of Helsinki Noir’ when Dark as My Heart was published. With a piercing and evocative style, Tuomainen is one of the first to challenge the Scandinavian crime genre formula.

Follow The Blog Tour:

If you liked the sound of the book from my review, do follow the blog tour and see what these other fabulous reviewers are saying.

I’m absolutely thrilled to share my review of the fabulous Heartaches and Christmas Cakes today as part of the blog blitz.  Heartaches & Christmas Cakes is now available to buy in Ebook in the UK and in the US now.

Book Description:

Heartaches and Christmas Cakes: A wartime family saga perfect for cold winter nights (Wartime Bakery Book 1)

December, 1940: All that Audrey Barton wants is her family together for Christmas. But the war changes everything… 

The Barton family bakery in Bournemouth has been at the heart of the town for generations: Audrey and Charlie Barton have never been rich, but their bread and cakes – and their love and advice – have enriched the lives of others in the town for many years.

When war breaks out, it doesn’t take long for trouble to arrive on the bakery doorstep. Audrey’s brother William has joined up to fight, and William’s fiancé Elsie fears she may lose him before their life together has even begun. Audrey’s stepsister Lily comes to stay, but Lily is clearly hiding a dark secret. 

And a silent and strange little girl is evacuated to the town – will Audrey get to the heart of what is ailing her? 

Audrey battles to keep hope and love alive in tumultuous times. But when disaster strikes at Christmas, will her efforts be in vain? 

This is the first book in a heartwarming and romantic new saga series, perfect for fans of The Gingerbread Girl, Nadine Dorries and Ellie Dean. 

My Review:

Frequent followers of my blog will know about my love for historical fiction, particularly ones that are based in World War Two.  I absolutely adored Heartaches and Christmas cakes and the authors description of life at a small bakery during the early part of the war.

I was immediately drawn into life at Barton’s bakery in Brighton and loved getting to know all the people there.  The way the book is written gives the reader a fly on the wall view  of life at the bakery and I quickly felt that I knew the characters intimately.  The book features some fantastic female characters who, although affected by personal tragedy throughout the war, are very good at just getting on with it and supporting one another.  I particularly liked Audrey and Elsie who I felt were particularly strong, together and capable women with hearts of gold.  Both women go out of their way to help others despite suffering themselves.  Their gallant efforts to try and make everything OK and keep everyone happy bought tears to my eyes at times.

The author cleverly integrates actual war events into the lives of the characters, without it every seeming forced or unnatural.  Through them we learn about the aftermath of Dunkirk, the battle of Britain and other war hardships like the Blitz and the treatment of evacuees.  I haven’t read a  lot about the aftermath of  Dunkirk so I found the description of that particularly  fascinating.  It would have been easy to make this book very happy with everything working out for the characters but the author doesn’t do this and instead the characters experience grief and hardships the same as many during the war which made the novel seem very realistic.  It was very poignant to read about some of the personal tragic stories that are mentioned in the book as you are aware that they probably did happen to people during the war and that people did suffer like that.

Being set in a bakery, there is a lot of  information about rationing and how it affected bakeries which I found very intriguing.  The rules that the baker had to follow like only being able to cook certain things and the interesting things they had to use as alternatives to icing sugar were things that I didn’t know about before.

This was a fascinating book that I loved reading.  I simultaneously wanted to read more to find out what happened next and slow down so it didn’t end.  If you like world war two fiction or saga’s from an unusual angle and enjoy learning new facts about the war then you will love this book.  It’s well written, with fantastic characters managing to be both heart warming and heart breaking, a brilliant read!

Huge thanks to Kim Nash and Bookouture for my copy of this book and for inviting me on the blog tour.

About The Author:

Amy Miller is the pseudonym of Amy Bratley, who started her writing life working on magazines and newspapers. She has previously written three women’s fiction novels published by Pan Macmillan, the first of which was a bestseller in Italy. Her day job is being a freelance managing editor of both a vintage interiors magazine and a food magazine, two subjects she’s passionate about. Amy lives in Dorset with her husband and two children.

Author Social Media Links:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AmyMillerBooks/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AmyBratley1

Follow The Blog Blitz:

If you liked the sound of this book from my review do go and check out these other bloggers reviews!

 

 

Today I’m excited to be able to share my review of Dead Lands by Lloyd Otis.  This is a police procedural/ crime novel with a retro twist which is available to buy in paperback and ebook from  Amazon or directly from  Urbane Publications website.  On Amazon the  ebook is currently only £1.99.

Book Description:

Dead Lands is a thrilling crime story set in the 1970s. When a woman’s body is found a special team is called in to investigate and prime suspect Alex Troy is arrested for the murder. Desperate to remain a free man, Troy protests his innocence, but refuses to use his alibi. Trying to protect the woman he loves becomes a dangerous game – questions are asked and suspicions deepen. When the prime suspect completes a daring escape from custody, DI Breck and DS Kearns begin the hunt. Breck wants out of the force while Kearns has her own agenda and seeks revenge. Breck has his suspicions and she wants to keep it from him, and a right-wing march provides an explosive backdrop to their hunt for Troy. Lloyd Otis brings a startling account of the past back to life over a burgeoning ’70s landscape, and delivers a thrilling piece of crime fiction that will excite any fan of the genre.

My Review

Firstly I think Deadlands has possibly the strongest opening I’ve read in a book.  It’s very hard hitting, immediately grabbing the reader and drawing them into the story.  It also helps set the scene perfectly for what is a very intriguing and complicated story.

Lloyd Otis has  obviously done his research as the 1970’s are perfectly evoked throughout the book.  From the language used by the characters through to the descriptions of hairstyles and clothing the reader feels taken back in time to a completely different era.  The attitudes of the time are also present with casual racism and sexism on display in the character’s language and actions.

My favourite character was Becks as I liked how normal he was and that he made mistakes in his work and wasn’t perfect.  He seemed to have a conscious and wanted to do right by everyone even suspects that he was interviewing after arresting them.  I felt sorry for him regarding his complicated personal life and felt for him when he didn’t get the results he wanted, a sure sign that a character has got under your skin!  I also liked Kearns and the way she was determined to prove herself in what was a male dominated job.  I did find at times that she did try to get her point across a little aggressively which i found a little annoying but on the whole I admired the way she conducted herself.  She also seemed to try and help some  of the other females in the station which was nice to read about, although again, I felt that she went about this the wrong way at times.

Deadland is quite a complicated story  that features lot of different story threads and lots of twist and turns, particularly at the beginning which I found a little difficult to keep track of.  Do keep reading though as it all comes clear and it is worth persevering.

This novel gets under your skin quite quickly, almost without you realising and I found myself reading quicker and quicker as I tried to solve the mystery.  The ending was brilliant and took me completely by surprise which I loved.  It is always great when you think a situation will be solved one way and it goes completely the other way!

This is Lloyd Otis’s debut novel and I look forward to  reading more from him.  If you like well written, intriguing crime stories that are well plotted and researched, then you will love Deadlands.

Huge thanks to Matt from Urbane Publications and Abby Fairbrother for my copy of this book and for inviting me on the blog tour.

About The Author:

Lloyd is no stranger tot he world of publishing and writing.  Currently working as an editor, Lloyd haas interviewed a host of bestselling authors, such as Mark Billingham, Hugh Howey, Kerry Hudson and Lawrence Block, and has blogged for The Bookseller and The Huffington Post.  He also wrote a regular book review column for WUWO Magazine, and two of his short stories were selected for publication in the ‘Out of My Window’ anthology.  He has also had articles appear on the Crime Readers Association website and in the Writers’ Forum magazine.

Lloyd was selected for the Crime in the Spotlight event at this September’s Bloody Scotland Festival.

You can connect with Lloyd Otis on Twitter- @LloydOtisWriter or on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LloydOtisDeadLands/

 

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.

Extract:

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 didn’t 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 didn’t 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 aunt’s 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 wasn’t one of them, so red it stayed. Yes, there it was.

There’s 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 hadn’t 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 he’d 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 he’d done and to come to terms with whatever consequences might follow. But right now, in this red cell, they didn’t 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 aunt’s 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.

 

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.

Extract:

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?’

‘No.’

‘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 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.

 

 

 

 

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:

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.

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.

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!

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:

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.

Follow The Blog Tour:

If you liked the sound of the book from my review, do follow the blog tour and see what these other bloggers are saying!