The New Achilles by Christian Cameron - Blog Tour Review

Today Life Of A Nerdish Mum is happy to take part in the blog tour celebrating the release of The New Achilles by seasoned historical fiction author, Christian Cameron.

The New Achilles

Alexanor is a man who has seen too much blood. He has left the sword behind him to become a healer in the greatest sanctuary in Greece: he has turned his back on war.
But war has followed him to his refuge at Epidauros, and now a battle to end the freedom of Greece is all around him. The Mediterranean superpowers of Rome, Egypt and Macedon are waging their proxy wars on Hellenic soil, turning Greek farmers into slaves and mercenaries.

Greece needs a champion.

When a wounded soldier is carried into his temple, Alexanor believes the man's wounds are mortal. But he is not destined to die. But Alexanor must face his own daemons before he can help the hero face his.
Because this is the new Achilles. His name is Philopoemen.
This is Greece's champion. The last hero. He is the new Achilles.

My Review

I only discovered my love of historical fiction a couple of years ago, but I sadly don't find time to read the genre very often. When the opportunity to read The New Achilles came up though, I jumped at it as I absolutely love Greek history in part due to my Greek heritage. Also the story sounded fascinating.

The action is right there from chapter one and continues right the way through the story. There are many extremely well written battles, both exciting and detailed. I'm not always the biggest fan of battle scenes in books (in War and Peace, I far preferred the "peace" sections to the war scenes), but in The New Achilles, I was kept engaged and wanted to know the outcome, instead of zoning out or skim reading.

Alexanor is an interesting character as he is someone who has moved from a life of fighting to a life of peace, before becoming embroiled again in the world of war. He is a far more stable character than you'd imagine and I really enjoyed his presence and his character development.

You can tell the author is a historian, this is not a detrimental thing, as the language and terminology used is obviously correct of the time period. I enjoy learning when I read, so having to use the glossary (and good old Google) on occasion was really helpful. The author's knowledge also helps with the feeling of authenticity of the places and people of the time period. This all really helped immerse me fully into the story. 

Overall a really excellent and intense read, not one to be sped through, but one to be savoured.

I gave this book 4 stars.

About The Author

Aka Miles Cameron. Also publishes as Gordon Kent with his father Kenneth M. Cameron.

Christian Cameron was born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in 1962. He grew up in Rockport, Massachusetts, Iowa City, Iowa,Christian Cameron and Rochester, New York, where he attended McQuaid Jesuit High School and later graduated from the University of Rochester with a degree in history.

After the longest undergraduate degree on record (1980-87), he joined the United States Navy, where he served as an intelligence officer and as a backseater in S-3 Vikings in the First Gulf War, in Somalia, and elsewhere. After a dozen years of service, he became a full time writer in 2000. He lives in Toronto (that’s Ontario, in Canada) with his wife Sarah and their daughter Beatrice, currently age four. And a half.

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Walking Wounded by Anna Franklin Osborne - Blog Tour Review

I am extremely happy today to bring my review of Walking Wounded by Anna Franklin Osborne as part of the blog tour. 

Walking Wounded

Born at the end of the First World War, a young girl struggles to find her own identity in her big family and is pushed into a stormy marriage through a terrible misunderstanding from which her pride refuses to let her back down. As her own personal world begins to crumble, the foundation of the world around her is shaken as Germany once again declares war and her brothers and young husband sign up with the first wave of volunteers. 
Walking Wounded tells the story of those left behind in a Blitz-ravaged London, and of the web of loyalty, guilt and duty that shapes the decisions of the women awaiting the return of their men-folk as the war draws to a close. 
Spanning the period from the Armistice of the First World War to the exodus of the Ten Pound Poms to Australia in the 1950s, Walking Wounded is a family saga whose internal violence is mirrored by the world stage upon which it is set. 

My Review

I honestly can't remember the last time a book touched me quite as much as Walking Wounded. This book is beautiful, heartbreaking and real. 

Walking Wounded is beautifully written, the story is woven in such a way that keeps you fully immersed in the characters lives and you don't want to put the book down and leave them. You need to know what happened next. 

The characters are all extremely realistic and I fell in love with each and everyone of them....well except one of course, one I was horrified by and I found myself wishing that they would leave or would be prevented some way from returning. I think my absolute favourite character was Stanley, he was so strong and gentle and kind, he really brought out the best in poeple. The family setting was so warm and you could feel the love between them all and when one suffered they all suffered and when one was happy, they were all happy, It was a really good representation of what family life was like at the time, with several generations and family members all living together or extremely close by and doing everything together. 

Walking Wounded also shows clearly what life was life at home during the wars. It's not something you ever really think of, I think one of the only other books I've read that have covered anything even close is Goodnight Mr Tom by Michelle Magorian. It was so hard seeing how much people struggled with rationing and sleeping in the bunkers while bombs were dropped above their heads. They also had to deal with "day to day" heartbreak as well as the horror of war. It also showed the strength of people, how they picked up the slack of jobs that needed doing, worked hard and in secret to support the troops and came together to hold each other up. 

I sobbed, I laughed, I loved and I hated throughout this book and I cannot wait for more from Anna Franklin Osborne.

About The Author

Back in December I was lucky enough to have Anna as a guest on my Getting To Know... feature so for more information, please go check that out here. 

I have always worked in health care, and more recently in education, and like so many other parents, hit a tiny crisis a few years ago when I felt that my purpose in life had narrowed to not an awful lot more than dashing between my two jobs and being a mummy taxi.

I managed to find time to begin singing with a choir, and that helped me feel that I might have a more creative side to myself. One evening, my husband was out and, quite suddenly, I decided to Start Writing. I immediately hit the first obstacles of terrible handwriting and a broken laptop, so my writing career began that night in bed, typing into the note section of my smart phone, with no clear idea of what I wanted to say but resulting in a severe case of RSI and several short stories over the next few nights.

My husband was delighted that I had suddenly found this passion and kept encouraging me to write a novel, which I really felt I did NOT have in me. Later that summer, however, we were walking along a D-Day beach for no other grander reason than our ferry home from France being late, and I began telling our kids about my three great-uncles who were part of that day, and my grandmother who sewed parachutes for the paratroopers jumping over Normandy. Neil looked at me and smiled and said, ‘you do actually have a story there, you know….’

Walking Wounded was written over a period of a year, on a tiny tablet which I bought specifically because it fitted into my handbag – as I said, ‘if it’s not with me at all times, this just won’t happen.’ I wrote every day in 10 minute bursts while I sat in the school car-park waiting for my daughter to emerge from school, I wrote parked outside ballet lessons and maths lessons, I wrote early in the mornings while everyone was asleep.

Walking Wounded is a war story and family saga, focusing on those left behind whilst their men folk went to war, how they survived and how their relationships evolved through periods of violence, loss and reunion. The main story is about May, a young woman struggling to find her own identity as the youngest in a large family, forced into a stormy marriage through a mistake she is too proud to admit, and explores the web of loyalty, guilt and duty that shaped the decisions of the women awaiting the return of their men-folk as WW2 draws to a close. Spanning the period from the Armistice of the Great War to the exodus of the Ten Pound Poms to Australia in the 1950s, its internal violence is mirrored by the world stage upon which it is set.

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The Outlaw's Ransom by Jennifer Ash - Blog Tour Guest Post and Book Extract

Today on Life Of A Nerdish Mum I am handing over the reigns to Jennifer Ash, author of The Outlaw's Ransom who is joining me as part of her blog tour. 

The Outlaw’s Ransom: Playing with History

Jennifer Ash

Thank you for letting me visit your blog today to celebrate the release of my first medieval mystery, The Outlaw’s Ransom.

Many many years ago, long before those mobile phone things came along, and laptops were but a pipedream, I studied ‘Medieval English Economy and Crime’ at Leicester University. Basically, I spent five years in historian heaven researching the correlation between the political songs and ballads of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries and the real criminal records of the day. I read a lot of Robin Hood stories and crime rolls!

My research became a PhD, and since then I’ve I always wanted to use my work. To begin with I taught, but then my husband’s job was moved to Scotland, and as they don’t teach English Medieval history north of the border, my career was somewhat scuppered!

Now, 17 years later, after being a professional writer for 12 of those years, I have finally put my efforts and historical detective work to use in The Outlaw’s Ransom - my very first medieval mystery.

The Outlaw’s Ransom story revolves around the real life fourteenth century criminal gang, the Folvilles- the very gang I concentrated much of my doctoral research on. This family, made up of 7 brothers (John, Eustace, Richard, Robert, Thomas, Walter and Laurence), was based in Ashby-Folville in Leicestershire, but they ruled a larger area of the country, which included Rutland, Northamptonshire, and part of Derbyshire.

I must confess I rather enjoyed taking historical fact and giving it a fictional spin. Although The Outlaw’s Ransom contains many factual events- I have played fast and loose with history. Please don’t go using any of the information within its pages in a pub quiz without checking it out first!

Blurb

The first in an exciting new series by acclaimed author Jenny Kane writing as Jennifer Ash.

When craftsman’s daughter Mathilda is kidnapped by the notorious Folville brothers, as punishment for her father’s debts, she fears for her life.  Although of noble birth, the Folvilles are infamous throughout the county for disregarding the law – and for using any means necessary to deliver their brand of ‘justice’.

Mathilda must prove her worth to the Folvilles in order to win her freedom. To do so she must go against her instincts and, disguised as the paramour of the enigmatic Robert de Folville, undertake a mission that will take her far from home and put her life in the hands of a dangerous brigand – and that’s just the start of things…

A thrilling tale of medieval mystery and romance – and with a nod to the tales of Robin Hood – The Outlaw’s Ransom is perfect for fans of C.J. Sansom and Jean Plaidy.

***

Here’s a little taster for you.  In this snippet, Mathilda is about to learn what the Folville family wants from her…

Usually Mathilda bathed in the village ford, splashing about in an attempt to scrape off the flour, leaves, dirt and dust of daily life. Total immersion in a bath was a completely new experience for her.

When she’d been handed over to the austere female servant who’d been instructed to bathe her, Mathilda had been almost as frightened as when she’d been plucked from the cell to stand before the Folvilles.

Nothing that was happening to her made sense. Everything was changing so fast. Now she was being told to strip off her dirty, but familiar, clothes, and get into a wooden tub of water that steamed before the fire in a small room off the main hall.

Her fears, in this case at least, were unfounded. Plunged into the blissfully warm lavender-scented tub, the water unexpectedly soothed her undernourished body and eased her tense muscles. Mathilda sighed with the release of fear, even though she had no doubt it was only a temporary reprieve. While she immersed in that pool at least there was nothing she could do about anything except get clean. She found herself unexpectedly grateful for a period of forced inactivity, where she could neither receive instructions nor fruitlessly plot to run away.

I’m alive, she thought. And if, as Robert de Folville himself had told her, she’d been exchanged for a debt, then her family should also be alive and well enough to be able to work towards paying that debt off.

As the tight-lipped housekeeper undid the remaining ties of her hair, and washed out its knotted tresses Mathilda resolved to believe that her new master was basically kind. It was less frightening that way. If the opportunity arose for her to ask about her family again, then she would do just that.

‘Mathilda.’

Robert de Folville spoke sternly, and at once Mathilda could see why, unless you were very sure of yourself, it would be unwise to argue with his man.

It was as if he had two sides to him. A side that was never to be questioned, that was ruthless and determined, and a kinder side, considerate of the individual and, most of all, the locality. It was how these two halves mixed and intertwined that intrigued Mathilda as she stood shyly in only her chemise before him.

The housekeeper who’d bathed her had produced fresh clothes for Mathilda, and despite all her experience and sharp temper, had been unable to persuade the ransomed girl to put them on, claiming that enough had happened to her, and she wanted to keep her own clothes on, no matter how worn they were. Eventually the older woman threatened to fetch his lordship to dress her himself, whether Mathilda was naked or not, and with grinning determination had fetched Robert.

Mathilda had only had time to wrap her arms around her modesty before Robert came striding in, annoyed impatience across his face. ‘You will dress in these,’ he pointed to the remainder of the pile of semi-new clothes. ‘I can’t waste my time with things like this, girl.’

Shaking her head firmly, Mathilda braced herself as she risked provoking his temper. The housekeeper was looking expectantly at Folville, and Mathilda suspected if she was disappointed when Robert steadied his anger before speaking with deliberate clarity.

‘Mathilda, it is important that you temper that natural directness of yours, not to mention your boldness. Those are valuable skills, but I need you to hide them beneath style and grace.’ He pointed again to the garments laid out before them. ‘These clothes will help you give the impression we require you to portray. Your own clothes will be cleaned and returned to you when the job is done.’

‘You see my directness as a skill, my Lord?’

Robert almost smiled as he replied with exasperation, ‘Boldness, intelligence, directness and an uncanny knack of knowing what’s going on when you shouldn’t may well get you out of here alive. But overconfidence will not be your friend.’

Mathilda’s face flushed. ‘I am no scandalmonger, my Lord.’

‘I had not suggested such a thing. But as you prove to me once again, you are bold.’ He turned to the housekeeper, treating the older woman to the edge of his simmering anger, ‘Now, for the Lord’s sake, Sarah, get some clothes on her. She looks like a whore.’

With that he stalked out of the room. Red with embarrassment, Mathilda allowed the disgruntled servant to help her into the fresh clothes. Over the chemise, she was pushed into a tightly sleeved dress of light brown, and on top of that came a longer sleeveless surcoat in a fine blue wool, a little paler in shade than her temporary master’s cloak. Finally, a wide leather belt, with a plain circular clasp, was used to pull in and girdle her waist, and a pair of practical leather boots adorned her bruised feet.

Clothes such as these, Mathilda knew, placed her in the arena of those who worked for the rising gentry, rather than those who traded for a living. For the daughter of a potter who only just kept his family alive on his own tiny stretch of land, and his skill with clay, it was a major transformation.

***

I hope that’s whet your appetite!

You can buy The Outlaw's Ransom for your Kindle here -

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Outlaws-Ransom-Jennifer-Ash-ebook/dp/B01LZDKPQM/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1475660907&sr=1-1&keywords=The+Outlaw%27s+Ransom+Jennifer+Ash

https://www.amazon.com/Outlaws-Ransom-Jennifer-Ash-ebook/dp/B01LZDKPQM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1475660990&sr=8-1&keywords=The+Outlaw%27s+Ransom+Jennifer+Ash

Many thanks for letting me visit today.

Happy reading everyone,

Jennifer x

Bio-

Jennifer Ash is the author of the medieval murder mystery, The Outlaw’s Ransom (Dec, 2016). Her second novel, The Winter Outlaw, with be published in 2017.

You can find detail’s of Jennifer’s stories at www.jenniferash.co.uk

Jennifer also writes as Jenny Kane

Jenny Kane is the author the contemporary romance Another Glass of Champagne, (Accent Press, 2016),  Christmas at the Castle (Accent Press, 2015), the bestselling novel Abi’s House (Accent Press, 2015), the modern/medieval time slip novel Romancing Robin Hood (Accent Press, 2014), the bestselling novel Another Cup of Coffee (Accent Press, 2013), and its novella length sequels Another Cup of Christmas (Accent Press, 2013), and Christmas in the Cotswolds (Accent, 2014).

Jenny’s fifth full length romance novel, Abi’s Neighbour, will be published in June 2017.

Jenny is also the author of quirky children’s picture books There’s a Cow in the Flat (Hushpuppy, 2014) and Ben’s Biscuit Tin (Hushpuppy, 2015)

Keep your eye on Jenny’s blog at www.jennykane.co.uk for more details.

Twitter- @JennyKaneAuthor

Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/JennyKaneRomance?ref=hl

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The Revenge Of Tirpitz by M. L. Sloan - Book Extract and Author Q&A

Today I'm very lucky to be bringing an extract from The Revenge of Tirpitz as well as a Q&A with the author M. L. Sloan (Michelle).

First up is the Q&A -

Your book, The Revenge of Tirpitz, is written with a dual timeline of modern day and 1944 during WWII. What is it that draws you to that specific time period?

It’s actually the little things that fascinate me - the lives of everyday people and how they coped and lived through the fear and restrictions imposed upon them during wartime. And then there’s the extraordinary bravery and commitment at that time to the cause. I suppose I relate it to myself - could I put myself in the position of the men and women who put their lives on the line? 

Did a lot of research go into getting the historical facts right in The Revenge Of Tirpitz?

I did an enormous amount of research on everything from radar to life in occupied Norway 1944, to the Sami people and of course Tirpitz herself. I knew that I was weaving fiction and fact together to create a pacey thriller but it was important to me that it was authentic and as plausible as possible. 

You have also released a picture book, The Fourth Bonniest Baby In Dundee, what was the inspiration behind writing this book?

You couldn’t get two more different books could you?!! And it’s fun promoting them both at the same time!!!  I’m doing school events at the moment and I’m with infants with Bonnie Baby and then dashing up to the upper end of the school with Tirpitz! Bonnie Baby came about after I entered my son into a Bonnie Baby competition here in my home town of Broughty Ferry. He came fourth which I thought was funny and so I decided to embellish the story and turn it into a rhyming picture book.

Do you have a favourite character that you have written so far?

Inga in Tirpitz is one of my favourite characters and she only features in one chapter! She’s from the Mountain Sami, is a reindeer herder and is preparing to make the journey across country. She’s confident and focussed; I like her spirit.  I would love to write a ‘spin-off’ story about her.

You originally trained as a primary school teacher, does that experience help or influence you in writing children's books?

Actually, if I’m honest I don’t know if that really helps the writing process. It definitely helps the promoting of the books as I’m in schools running workshops for children of all ages. And I also have a separate Drama degree so that helps make the workshops interactive and fun. Writing the books, for me, is about losing myself in the voices of the characters for an evening! Almost embodying them. It’s a bit trancelike because you lose all concept of time!! 

When writing, do you have a set routine or ritual that you follow?

Once I’ve committed myself to an idea, I am disciplined and sit down for an hour or two in my evenings or if I’m lucky an occasional morning or afternoon and get my head down. And then surface two or three hours later in a bit of a daze!!!

You once performed a one woman show in Edinburgh, can you tell me more about it?

I studied Drama and Theatre Arts at Queen Margaret University in Edinburgh as a mature student and in my final year one of the students ambitiously put together a Canadian play festival. I performed the first European performance of Nicole Zylstra's 'Firebird: 220 Horses of the Apocalypse’ which was a reinvention of 'Medea' transposing the action to Brooks, Alberta. It followed the journey through life of a young woman armed with nothing but a magic 8 ball and a pack of tarot cards!! I found it terrifying, exhilarating and ultimately hugely satisfying to perform on my own for an hour. I look back now and can’t quite believed I did it!

When you're not writing what would we find you doing?

Housework!!! Running around after three children!  No, seriously, I love theatre - everything from musicals and Shakespeare, to contemporary, edgy physical performance. So whenever I get the chance I head to my local, wonderful theatre, Dundee Rep. Or down to Edinburgh. I read of course too!

Do you have a favourite author?

Several! From Charlotte Bronte, to Rosamunde Pilcher, from John Masefield to Susan Hill,  I have a selection of ‘comfort' reads: books that I revisit either on a seasonal basis or if I need to feel grounded in some way.  That, for me, is the joy of books. Not only can they educate, illuminate and inspire, they can make you feel better on different levels.  Like a pair of comfy socks or a good cuppa. Read yourself better, I say!

What can we look forward to from you next?

I’ve been so busy promoting both books that I’ve not really had a clear mind to focus on what to do next.  I love the research involved in historical fiction - it’s really joyful to lose myself in some period from history; I find it comforting. So I just need to decide on a time frame or key moment in history and get going!

Thank you so much to Michelle for answering my questions! Now onto the extract which I have to say is absolutely amazing. 

‘Take this gun,’ said the agent. ‘You will need it. There are Nazis everywhere.’

He signalled to outside the hut where the last wisps of the storm were trailing away. The hut stood isolated, clinging to the snow-smattered hillside; and now the chill of the night had taken hold.

The man took the revolver and nodded. He understood.

‘I’ve radioed the crew of the boat—it’s called Havørn,’ continued the agent.

‘Does the skipper know about me? And the crew?’ the man asked, tentatively.

The agent stared at the man before him, perched uncomfortably on the wooden chair. He looked weary; one arm was strapped tight against his chest in a sling. His face was tired and tense; haunted even. Deep lines were etched into a permanent frown. He clearly hadn’t washed for days. His clothes were torn.

The agent nodded. ‘Yes, Olsen radioed us and passed on everything. The skipper is expecting you. You will rendezvous withHavørn at Reine in one hour. You must follow the road at the bottom of the hill for three miles until you reach the harbour.’ He paused then added, ‘Be safe. Havørn cannot wait for you.’

The man nodded. He stood, his body cold and stiff, his slung arm aching and opened the door to the hut. Outside, though the landscape was drenched in darkness, the moon was trying to peer out from behind swift-moving clouds. The snow-capped peaks shone out in the flitting snatches of moonlight. Somewhere there was a screech. Was it an owl? Or the cry of a sea eagle? The man took a deep breath and looked back into the hut.

‘Goodbye,’ he said to the agent. ‘And thank you.’ He turned and plunged himself down the hillside, into the hostile zone.

He’d found his way up there earlier in the day, but then he’d had the help of a guide. Now he was stumbling blindly in the dark. Alone.

The man had been on the run for days now. Sometime earlier (had it been last night? Or the night before that? He had no concept of time) some fishermen had rescued him from the wreckage of the sinking boat he’d been travelling on. His skipper, despite their best efforts, was taken by the sea.

By remarkable fortune, the fishermen had known the skipper, known he was helping the Resistance. And after hauling the man from the freezing waters, they had offered to take him on to the Lofoten islands where a guide—a local—had intelligence of the whereabouts of the agent. Together they had crept carefully, out of sight, to avoid unwelcome attention, dodging Nazis, trekking for miles. But now, negotiating the hillside, he had never felt so alone. Fear began to smother him. He stopped his descent and listened to his breath, loud and uneven, his heart pounding. He steadied himself and waited for his pulse to calm. The moon broke through and he could just make out in the distance the snaking curve of a road. Fear put to one side, he picked up his pace. He could not afford to miss the rendezvous.

The man gathered momentum as he sped down the hillside towards the road, his broken arm clutched tight to his body in its sling, the other arm helping to keep his balance. His feet slipped on the scree but still he ran on, the road nearly within reach. With desperation mounting as he ran, he became more daring, his speed almost out of control. But he was nearly there! He leapt wildly now into the dark unknown, until his luck ran out. He missed his footing and fell, rolling and spinning down the craggy hillside. The rocks tore at his clothes and his flesh and he tumbled over and over until he landed with a thud. At least he had made it to the bottom of the hill. He wrenched his body over and groaned. Blood spilled from his nose, his limbs ached. But something made him freeze. His ears filled with a sound that terrified him—a car—coming this way. He immediately hauled himself to the side of the road to scurry into the bushes. The chequered moonlight soon illuminated two Nazi vehicles—a truck, and a motorbike with sidecar—speeding where he had, moments ago, been lying. In the truck, two rows of men sat in the back face to face, with straight backs, hats silhouetted.

When he was sure they had gone, he eased himself out of hiding and set off again. But running became limping as cloying pain took hold of his right leg as he tried to pick up the pace.

He wore no watch so now relied on calculated judgements of time. Each few steps were allocated as a minute, two minutes—this continued and accumulated. Before long, he was up to half an hour. Beads of sweat formed on his head and neck. Doubts flashed through his mind.

He wasn’t going to make it.

The darkness ahead was confusing. The clouds now covered the moon and as he waded on through the black he felt disorientated. Direction was based on the road underfoot. But he seemed to see a light in the far off distance—was it the harbour? A house with no blackout? It now appeared to be several tiny lights, moving and dancing. And then he realised—it was the Nazi troops. They had stopped up ahead, and they were smoking cigarettes. The soft, shielded glow of the vehicle headlights revealed the outline of steep rocky hillsides bordering each side of the road. There was no way past them; he was trapped. A plan quickly formed in his mind. It was reckless but, to have a chance of making the rendezvous point, he would have to take a tremendous risk.

The man wiped the blood that had trickled out of his nose with the back of his sleeve. He pulled his hat further down over his ears and set off, walking directly towards the vehicles. The running engine and men’s banter masked the sound of his footsteps as he approached the truck. He crept silently, tapping his pocket to make sure the gun was there and carefully moved along the side of the truck, all the time listening to the prattle of the men’s conversations. He reached for the handle of the door and with a click opened it, slipping inside. Without wasting another moment, he crunched the gear stick forward. Before the Nazis realised what had happened, his foot was down hard on the accelerator and the truck screeched forward, the door still swinging. The shouts of the startled men could be heard over the grinding of the engine as the truck roared into the night.

It was hard to manoeuvre the steering wheel with one arm in the sling, and he had to use his knee to steady it as he reached over to change gears. The truck swerved wildly, and with a quick glance to his rear view mirror, he could see a single headlight. The motorbike was after him. It wouldn’t take long to catch him as the truck was heavy and sluggish. He pressed his foot to the floor and squinted, focussing intently on what he could make out of the road ahead. How much further?

Suddenly, a sign appeared in the low glow of the headlights: there was a sharp bend in the road. With a screech of tyres, he swerved too late. His able arm grabbed frantically at the steering wheel, but the truck went crashing off the road into a ditch. He was thrown forward, hitting his head sharply. With no time to review his injuries, desperation spurred him on. He clambered out of the vehicle, and set off running blindly into the black of the night. He had no idea of the direction he was heading; there was nothing to guide him.

The sound of the heaving motorbike engine was now close behind him. He swung round to look. The dim headlight seemed to freeze as the engine died. They too were on foot, running closely behind him, scrabbling and shouting.

The clouds shifted and a bright moon lit up the scene ahead, an intervention that would propel everything to a conclusion. The man could now make out the glimmer of the sea. Waiting in the tiny harbour was a single fishing boat: Havørn.

His path was clear—it could only be a hundred feet or so! The ricochet of a piercing gunshot echoed into the night. As the moon had lit up his route, so too had it revealed his location to the agitated Nazis. The man reached into this pocket, and with one swift action, swung round and took a shot. Instantly, he was met with another shot. It was two— perhaps three—against one. He shot again and another bullet whizzed past him. This one he heard in his ear as it flew by. They were closer now; their aim more accurate. The hillside dipped and he realised his own stuttering pace was slowing when the heavy breathing of one of the Nazis grew ever closer. He took a chance, swung round again and aimed. This time, he shot three times in quick succession. He heard a low scream. One was down! He stumbled on and mentally counted the bullets he’d used. He had one left.

Havørn was close now, but as he approached, something wasn’t right. Wiping the sweat (or was it blood?) from his forehead, he stared out to sea. Was the boat moving? They must have heard the gunshots and decided to leave before it was too late.

‘NO! Wait!’ he yelled. His shout sounded pathetic in the vastness of the space. ‘Wait!’ he shrieked again, his voice cracking and breaking. ‘I’m here! I’ve made it!’

Gunshots once more, and again he could feel the very ripples in the air as the bullets sped by. But mercifully, their aim this time was poor.

Now the harbour, with its pier spiking into the sea, was before him. Havørn was edging out, and so he had no choice. He set his mind and his body to sprint, ignoring the shooting pains in his limbs. And with one final push he took a leap off the edge, into the air—both feet thrust forward.

He grabbed onto the railing and outstretched arms hauled him over and onto the safety of the deck. Another gun shot rang out—this time someone from Havørn was covering them.

He could barely breathe. Each gasp of air ached. He tried to speak.

‘I’m Hans,’ he exhaled, coughing and rasping. ‘You were expecting me, no?’

The skipper nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said calmly. ‘We were hoping you would make it. And now, Hans, we’re on our way.’ He paused and added, ‘We’re on our way to Shetland.’

Yonder by LeeAnne Hansen - Audiobook Review and Author Q&A

Back in November 2015 I was lucky enough to read Yonder: A Southern Haunting, Book One by LeeAnne Hansen and I absolutely fell in love with LeeAnne's writing and the story of Isabel (if you want to check out my review, it's over here). I've been patiently *ahem* waiting for book two since, so when LeeAnne contacted me to see if I would like to try out the audio version of Yonder, I jumped at the chance. 

This was my first experience with an audio book so I wasn't sure what to expect. I've been putting off using audio books for a long time now as I wasn't sure if I'd pay enough attention if I was only listening rather than reading as it's very easy to tune out of things if you're busy doing something else. 

With having read Yonder before and knowing how much I loved it, I knew that I would be paying attention, though once I started listening I don't know what I was ever worried about as I couldn't do anything else as I was enjoying listening to the story so much. LeeAnne narrates Yonder herself and in my opinion she does an amazing job. He voice fits the story perfectly and she doesn't quite put on different voices for each character but there is enough difference to know exactly who is speaking every time. 

I felt like I was "reading" Yonder again for the first time, it was like discovering it all over again and I loved it. Having someone else read it to me meant being able to just get totally lost in the story and concentrate on the conversations between characters. 

I cannot recommend this book and audio book enough to you! 

As LeeAnne is such a lovely person, she agreed to take some time out to answer some questions for me and I'm extremely grateful. Here's my q&a with her:

Did you always know that you wanted to be a writer?

Kind-a. I was always writing but I was drawn in a lot of directions from acting to directing to singing to playing in a band (bass guitar). But no matter what I was doing, I was always writing.

Your books combine romance and hauntings, what drew you to this combination? Have you always been a fan of the two? 

I love romance (complete sucker for love stories) and I am a super fan of things like the Twilight Zone and history. I like stories where people are just trying to lead their lives and something they didn't expect pops up. I wanted a kind-of- Hitchcock feel – He loves to throw a normal Joe into a life he had no idea was possible or even existed.

Yonder, the audio book is narrated by yourself (beautifully I may add), can you tell me anything about the process? 

First off, Thank you! That was quite a undertaking. I had never done anything like that before in my life! Luckily, I married my own Hollywood sound profession who bought me a mic for my birthday and helped set me up. I went to school for musical theatre and acting but I never thought of doing something like this, but the idea that someone besides myself would read Isabel had me ready to kill, so I knew I had to do it. It was a huge discovery into myself- I recently had half my thyroid removed due a growth (nothing serious) and it had taken awhile for my voice to make a come back- if anything, this project taught me that I really hadn't lost anything: It gave me the confidence I had been lacking. I really owe it a lot.

Now that Yonder is an audio book, will Ghost Light and your future books come out in audio book form too? 

You had to ask. LOL- I need to learn a Scottish accent first. I am working on it. It's tough! But I hope to do all of what I write.

Do you have a writing routine or a favourite place to write?

Not so much a place but an atmosphere. I love to write when it is raining so I moved to the wrong place since living in Southern California, rainy days are rare.

Do you have a favourite character that you have written so far?

I would have to say Sean Berenger in Ghost Light. He is such a wonderful ass! In reality, I based him on a drunken Scottish version of Han Solo. Who doesn't love Han Solo?

What is your favourite thing about being an author? 

The feedback! Having people love my characters as much as I do is just the best part!

When you're not writing, what do you like to get up to?

I like to read and go to plays. Love live music concerts. I'm a huge fan of YouTube and watching Gifs with Sound, they make me smile.

Do you have a favourite author? 

I adore Christopher Moore, Ray Bradbury and Eve Silver - Moore is hilarious and strikes that human chord, Bradbury paints complex worlds with very few words and Silver makes me think I will never write Romance as good as her.

I know you're currently writing A Southern Haunting #2, do you have a rough idea of when we can expect it to be released? 

In a few months. Currently, I have been hired out to write a couple of spooky screenplays for a production company and record some audio books for Warren Adler (author of War of the Roses. First audio book is already out called American Sextet- I did it under the name Lillian Yves.) As soon as these projects are completed (soon!) I'll return to spending all my focus on the sequel.

Thank you again to LeeAnne so much, both for giving me the opportunity to try out the audio book of Yonder, but also for answering all my questions, it's been an absolute pleasure.