The Christmas Cake Cafe by Sue Watson - Release Day Book Blitz

Today Life Of A Nerdish Mum is part of the release day book blitz of The Christmas Cake Cafe by Sure Watson. As part of this I have an extract from the book to entice you in! 

Blurb

Heart-warming and hilarious, a story that will make you laugh, cry and bring a smile to your face.  Get ready for another deliciously amazing Christmas treat from Sue Watson….

As the Prosecco chills and Bing Crosby croons, Jen Barker just knows that her long-term boyfriend is about to propose.  But instead of a diamond ring nestled in her champagne flute, Jen finds cold flat rejection.  Her once perfect life and dreams of a husband and family seem even further from reach. 

A working holiday to the Swiss Alps with her younger sister Jody might not be the Christmas Jen had it mind, but it offers her the chance to recharge her batteries and recover from heartbreak.

When Jen meets handsome ski instructor Jon Zutter her hopes for a happy-ever-after seem within her grasp again. Jon is kind and gorgeous and as they bond over Sachetorte at the picturesque Cake Café, Jen thinks he might just be her perfect man. But a relationship with him comes with a catch – and there are some things even cake can’t fix. 

As the snow falls and Christmas approaches, could this be the place that restores Jen Barker’s faith in love? 

Extract 

The Christmas Proposal

It was Christmas Eve, the champagne was cold and sparkly, the tree was twinkling, and Bing Crosby was tinkling across the restaurant, filling the air with festive warmth and glitter. It was also the eve of my fortieth birthday, so it was extra special, and I was feeling particularly emotional looking at Tim across the table. The time was right. At last. He looked gorgeous. Not only was the candlelight warming his face, softening his big brown eyes, it was also rekindling our love. Despite the sparkle of the season I had to admit we’d been a little lacklustre on the love front recently.

‘This is just what we need,’ I sighed. ‘I know things haven’t been easy for us – you’ve been working so hard I’ve hardly seen you – but I’m glad we made this time for each other, Tim.’

‘Yes, I wanted us to spend tonight together,’ he said. ‘It’s been ten years now, and I think it’s time we talked about the future.’

A frisson of excitement bubbled up in my chest – though it may have been the champagne.

‘Yes, ten wonderful years,’ I said, smiling, gazing into his eyes and thinking of the good times. It had taken a while, and there’d been doubts along the way. It hadn’t been a bed of roses, and Tim had a tendency to put work before our relationship, coming home and burying his head in the computer, and often forgetting our anniversaries because he was so busy. But here, by the glittering light of candles, it seemed Tim was finally ready to put us first. He knew Christmas was my favourite time of year, and I’d often talked of a wedding in December, so perhaps we could organise it in time for next year? It was my childhood dream to be a winter bride, dressed in icy white, crystals and fur. I’d imagined being delivered to my soul mate by horse and carriage, cutting through a white landscape of snowy mountains and shimmering fir trees. And it looked like that dream was just about to come true, so I sat back and waited for the confetti to fall.

Tim lifted the champagne bottle from the ice bucket, tutting slightly at the drips on the table. I wiped them away with my napkin then folded it again, pushing the creases with my fingers, desperately trying to make it smooth.

‘The waitress should have brought a cloth,’ he sighed. ‘I wasn’t sure about buying this fizz anyway... it’s an inferior brand.’ He scrutinised the label then screwed up his face in that way he often did.

I smiled indulgently. How like Tim to want everything about the ‘surprise proposal’ to be perfect. We were quite alike really – both wanted a nice home, clean, tidy with a perfectly manicured lawn and a kitchen stuffed with high-end white goods. My friend Storm said we were in a rut, but as I pointed out to her, one girl’s rut was another girl’s life of domestic bliss. We both knew where we were and what the other was doing at any given time, nothing wrong with that – and we were both in bed by 9.30 p.m. every night, asleep by 9.35 p.m. I was happy; I felt safe with Tim. He wasn’t what you’d call spontaneous, but if spontaneity meant he’d run off with the first good-looking woman he saw, then give me predictable. Given our routine and the fact I knew him inside out, the proposal wasn’t going to be a surprise because I’d seen all the signs. There was mistletoe above the table, champagne in the ice bucket and deliberately vague references to it being time to ‘talk about our future’.

He’d also insisted I meet him at 6.30 p.m., which meant I had to miss taking part in the annual carol service at the hospital. My half-sister Jody was a nurse there, and I’d felt really torn about backing out – and Jody hadn’t helped with her emotional blackmail. ‘Don’t worry about the hospital charity, Jen. I mean if Tim wants an early dinner then sick patients will have to come second,’ she’d said sarcastically. For God’s sake, this was my Christmas proposal. It was everything I’d ever wanted and still she didn’t get it. I put Jody and her anger from my mind. It was my birthday tomorrow, and I was having a special Christmas Eve birthday dinner with my future husband. I looked round at the glittery lights, the mistletoe, the sparkling champagne and the man with twinkly blue eyes. I was a lucky girl.

As Tim lifted the bottle to pour our drinks, I discreetly checked the bottom of my glass flute to see if he’d popped the engagement ring in when I wasn’t looking. Tim wasn’t really a romantic – he always said grand gestures were just a desperate attempt for attention, or a cover-up for infidelity. I suppose that’s why he never bought me flowers and didn’t want to get engaged, until now. If I ever made vague suggestions about getting married (which I did, sometimes once a week) he’d always reject them quite strenuously: ‘Isn’t it enough that I come back to our shared home every evening?’ he’d say. But I knew if I waited long enough it would happen. And here we were, champagne on the table, Bing Crosby in the air – my moment had arrived.

‘So... to us,’ I said, raising my glass, looking into his eyes, offering him the moment. ‘And to love,’ I added, for good measure.

‘Whatever love is,’ he said in his best Prince Charles voice, which stung a little, but now wasn’t the time to compare our love to that of the doomed prince and princess, so I pushed forward.

‘I wonder what our future holds?’ I said, with a questioning but coquettish look, along with another rather blatant cue.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Oh.’ I put down my glass, still smiling. Was he teasing me? It wasn’t like Tim to tease – he was usually very serious.

‘I’ve been thinking a lot lately and tonight I want to share my thoughts with you,’ he started.

I shimmered with excitement and, taking another gulp, I waited as he took a sip of his champagne. Now would be good, I thought – this would be the perfect memory with the candles and the musical accompaniment. Bing was reaching a climax – a few more festive lyrics and he’d be gone, leaving only cutlery clatter and murmured conversations. The Christmas proposal had to have a backdrop of good Christmas music, and I was worried about what would be piped through next, because I didn’t want this moment drowned by a shrieking Mariah Carey wailing about what she wanted for Christmas. I felt like a film director, longing to shout ‘Action!’ so it would all fall into place here and now – everything perfect, even the timing. You had to grab these perfectly framed moments so you could hold on to them forever.

And then he spoke. ‘We’ve had ten good years together... and the thing is... tonight I wanted to say... thank you...’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘But... but I think we’ve reached the end of the road.’

And my Christmas world stood still. Baubles stopped sparkling, candles went out – and Bing Crosby left abruptly, taking his white Christmas with him.

This wasn’t in the script. Tim was now supposed to be on one knee placing the ring on my finger as the restaurant erupted around us in applause. My mouth was suddenly very dry, and I took a large gulp of champagne before asking, ‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m not happy.’

‘Happy? Not happy?’

‘No... I don’t want this life... with you.’

My throat closed up and I couldn’t speak, breathe or swallow – my whole world had crashed, taking my past and future with it. No sparkly ring in my glass, no flower-framed wedding photos of the two of us smiling, my bouquet thrown in the air, my life fused with his.

I looked into his cold eyes, a tiny cell in my body still hoping against hope this might be an elaborate joke. But Tim didn’t do jokes.

‘How long have you felt like this?’ I asked.

‘Years.’

‘Years? YEARS?’

‘Yes... don’t shout, Jennifer.’ He looked over at the couple on the next table, giving them an embarrassed smile.

‘Oh I’m sorry, you’ve just thrown a bomb into my life, forgive me if I embarrass you by shouting,’ I snapped. ‘Tim, what the hell...?’

‘I’m sorry. I just haven’t felt... love... for you for a while now.’

This was a final stab to the heart. ‘But it’s Christmas... and it’s my birthday...’ I said, desperately searching for reasons for him not to do this, like it was illegal to dump someone at Christmas or on their birthday.

‘Why this... now?’ I asked, gesturing towards the champagne, the glittering candles, the perfect bloody setting for a perfect bloody proposal.

‘It’s your birthday. We always go out for your birthday. I wanted it to be pleasant...’

‘Pleasant? PLEASANT?’ I raised my voice again.

‘Ssshhh, you’re making a scene,’ he said, looking round furtively.

‘A scene? A SCENE? I yelled, aware I was simply repeating key words and saying them more loudly, but it was involuntary. ‘You dump me after ten years... my best years... We were on the cusp of marriage.’ He was shaking his head, but I wasn’t taking this on.

‘You’ve taken my youth, my fertile years – I wanted a baby, Tim.’

‘I’m sure you’ll meet someone...’ he started.

‘I WON’T. No one will want me. You’ve had the best years, the childbearing...’

‘Please stop shouting about fertility and childbearing in here.’ He was hissing, more concerned about how we looked to the rest of the diners than the fact my heart was splattered all over the table.

‘You’ve taken away my future, you bastard!’ I shouted this and in my rising fury picked up the bottle of champagne and hurled the rest of the contents at him. He yelped like a dog, and then the manager came over and asked if he could help.

‘Yes, kick him in the balls for me,’ I shouted, and grabbing my bag, I rushed out in a flurry of tears and heartbreak – just as Bing Crosby suggested we have ourselves a merry little Christmas.

About The Author

Sue Watson was a journalist on women’s magazines and national newspapers before leaving it all behind for a career in TV. As a producer with the BBC she worked on garden makeovers, kitchen takeovers and daytime sofas – all the time making copious notes so that one day she might escape to the country and turn it all into a book.

After much deliberation and copious consumption of cake, Sue eventually left her life in TV to write.  After a very successful debut novel, Fat Girls and Fairy Cakes Sue signed a three book deal with Bookouture.

So if that got you interested, The Christmas Cake Cafe is available today here for people in the UK and here for the US.

Getting To Know... Shalini Boland

Today on Getting To Know... I have the extremely talented Shalini Boland, author of The Girl From The Sea (which I reviewed earlier this year, see HERE) and of the upcoming psychological thriller, The Best Friend. 

You write psychological thrillers and dark YA books, is there anything in particular that draws you to the darker side of writing?

It's true. I do find the darker side more interesting and entertaining to write about. My teens were spent watching horror movies with friends, trying to spook one another, and I also loved reading all of Anne Rice's Vampires and Witches series. After all, who doesn't love a good scare now and again! That said, I do read the occasional chick lit novel to balance things out.

You have written both stand alone novels and book series, do you have a preference between writing one of the other? Or does it depend on genre?

My YA books are all series, and this was purely down to my readers. Book One in each series was written as a standalone, but my readers wanted more, so I expanded each one into a trilogy. There is definitely more pressure with series to get each book out very quickly.

You have also written a children's book, A Shirtful Of Frogs, which deals with time travel. What was the inspiration behind this story?

This book was a labour of love. It was inspired by my father-in-law's terrible experiences as an evacuee during WWII. He was only five at the time, and I can't believe what he went through. I gave the story a magical twist as the truth was a little too bleak for a children's story. It's great to have his experiences recorded for the family, and for others to read.

As well as being an author, you also run eBookSoda, can you tell me more about that?

I think I set this up in a moment of madness! It's an ebook promotion website. Authors and publishers get in touch with us when their books are going to be free or on offer, and we send the deals out to our subscribers - avid readers, hungry for an ebook deal. As an author, I thought it would be a great tool to help me and other authors promote our books directly to readers. And, as a reader, I'm now never short of great books to read!

Before becoming an author, you were a successful singer/songwriter and you worked with some very well known artists. Will we ever see a return to that industry?

Nope! It was an exciting chapter in my life, perfect for when I was in my twenties and early thirties. But once my kids came along, I couldn't bear to spend vast chunks of time away from them, so I left it all behind and started concentrating on novel writing. Now, I just sing in the car.

Do you have a set routine when you're writing or are you lucky enough to write anywhere at any time?

When I start a new book, I try to write every single day until it's finished. I get home from the school run, get the household stuff out of the way, make a coffee and sit down on the sofa with my laptop, dog at my feet. This is my set routine when writing, but things are more haphazard during the editing/planning/promoting period.

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

I love my character Mia (The Girl from the Sea), because I felt like I went on a journey with her, and, even though I wrote it, I was just as shocked at how things ended up. From my YA stuff, it has to be Madison (Marchwood Vampire series). She's feisty and tough, brave and straight-talking - nothing like me!

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

Working on eBookSoda, chatting with my kids and husband, or curled up in bed reading.

Do you have a favourite author?

I have many, many favourite authors. Anne Rice, Paullina Simons, Lainy Taylor, and I've recently been enjoying Sarah A. Denzil's pychological thrillers.

Your newest psychological thriller The Best Friend is out on the 20th October, but what can we look forward to next from you? 

I'm currently plotting out my next thriller. Its working title is The Perfect Marriage and it's about a married woman who finds herself in a terrible, no-win situation. I'm excited to start writing it. Hoping it will be out next spring!

Thank you so much to Shalini for answering my questions in the busy time coming up to the publication of her next book. 

The Best Friend - PRE ORDER AVAILABLE FROM 13/10/2016

They say to keep your friends close and your enemies closer . . . Wrong.

Louisa’s new best friend has it all – the house, the status, the money – but she’s also hiding a dark secret. And, as Louisa is drawn deeper into her friend’s life, events take a chilling turn . . .

Land Of Midnight Days - Katrina Jack

I was very lucky to receive an e-book copy of Land Of Midnight Days direct from the author, Katrina Jack, in exchange for an honest review. 

Omgoodness this book sucks you right in and doesn't let you out until its done! Land Of Midnight Days is fast paced and action packed. I genuinely couldn't put this book down when I picked it up as I needed to know what happened next. 

Jeremiah the main character is a half Elwyn/half human and a genius with the flute. He is an amazing character, he is broken but he refuses to give up. I think he is also the first mute character that I have come across and it was really interesting watching the struggle of trying to make himself understood when the other person couldn't use sign language. I thought this was all handled extremely well and the author also highlighted the presumptions that people have about differently abled people. I think the description in the synopsis of Jeremiah is perfect, he knows how to survive, but not how to live. 

The characters are all fleshed out really well and there isn't a single character that I didn't find interesting. The author has updated elves, ogres and demons in a really interesting way and in a way to make them work in an urban environment instead of rolling hills and valleys. Apart from Jeremiah, I really liked the characters of Joe, Big Fred and I thought Ezra's character wasn't nice but was interesting. As a parent I just couldn't find anything redeeming in either Sylvan or Zeb as both of them let Jeremiah down in the worst way time and time again. 

The world described is one of violence and of people just trying to survive. It is a very bleak place and one that can be recognised as somewhere we could end up one day. You can feel the hopelessness of the population, though there are spots of light that are shining through the darkness and hopefully they will be the one to succeed by the end of the story. 

I'm not sure why I have never heard of this series before or why more people aren't talking about it. I would 100% recommend it to anyone who loves fantasy or urban fantasy. I will definitely be picking up the rest of the books in the series to find out what happens next to Jeremiah and the other characters. 

I gave this book 5 stars. 

Land Of Midnight Days 

What would you do if your life was filled with fear: hide, run away - or would you fight back? In a city at war with itself, Jeremiah Tully already knows how to survive, now he must learn how to live. Mute from birth, of mixed race heritage and his only possession a charmed flute, Jeremiah tries to discover where his remarkable talent as a musician will take him.

Getting To Know... Annika Milisic-Stanley

I'm welcoming Annika Milisic-Stanley to Getting To Know... today on Life Of A Nerdish Mum, Annika is the author of The Disobedient Wife. 

Your debut novel, The Disobedient Wife, was released late last year, what was the inspiration behind this story?

When I lived in Tajikistan I became very interested in the country. I decided to write a story about the interactions between a rich expatriate and a poor entrepreneur in order to depict different lifestyles in Dushanbe. I was inspired by the stunning mountainous landscapes, the stories of drug trafficking and the raw ugliness of Soviet high-rises in the winter juxtaposed against tree-lined avenues and pristine snow. 

The Disobedient Wife is set in Tajikistan, was there a reason that you chose this country?

Yes. I lived there when I started writing the novel. It is far easier to write the details of a story when you live in the place where it is set. 

The Disobedient Wife focuses on Harriet and Nargis two very different women, do either of them have any of your personality traits or character?

I would say that I am more like Nargis, the Tajik, than Harriet, the British expatriate. Nargis strives to do better for herself and her children. She uses her opportunities positively and has a strong sense of her own agency, whereas Harriet is swept along by events and made desperate by her inability to shape her own destiny. 

Have you always wanted to be an author?

Yes, though I worked for twenty years as an anthropologist before finally deciding that I would try and get published creatively.  I won the Cinnamon Press 'Debut Novel' Award for 2014 and they published me in late 2015.

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

When I am not writing, I am usually working as an editor, or preparing paintings for a commission or exhibition. I take my kids to football tournaments and spend winter weekends teaching them to ski. One day a week I volunteer as an English teacher with refugee men at a day centre in central Rome where I live. I cook, garden and run.

What did you do before becoming an author?

Before publishing my novel, I worked as a programme coordinator and fundraiser and in anthropological assessment for humanitarian agencies across the world. 

You have done a lot of travelling, do you have a favourite place that you visited?

India has my heart, but Croatia is a country that I know well and love visiting every summer. 

Do you have a favourite author?

That is an impossible question! I love so many. Names that spring to mind / specific books include: William Boyd, Chimamanda Ngozie Adichie, Arundhati Roy, Anne Tyler, Barbara Kingsolver, Jonathon Franzen, Paolo Coelho's essays, Ian McEwan's Saturday, Kiran Desai, Linda Grant's The Clothes on Their Backs', Jhumpa Lahiri, Aleksander Hemon's Love and Obstacles, Kathryn Stockett's The Help, Margaret Atwood, T.S Eliot and Doris Lessing. I have recently read an anthology by Angela Readman, an up and coming genius of the short story genre. 

You have a blog, The Disobedient Author, where you share book reviews, personal views on the world and your writing experiences, what was the inspiration behind setting this up?

I created the blog up to make links with other writers and readers and to have a place where I could post my musings, book launch news and book reviews. I do not blog regularly though, as it takes too much precious time away from writing actual books. I also find the idea of posting my inner thoughts rather than fictional stories to the general public somewhat invasive and potentially dangerous. 

What can we look forward to next from you?

I am completing a novel about a refugee named, 'The Girl with the White Suitcase'. Set in Rwanda, Kenya and Italy, it is about a young, intelligent girl who comes of age as a unaccompanied refugee, embarking on a journey of survival. Themes include tolerance and multi-ethnic identity. It ends well as she finds love and peace. 

The Disobedient Wife synopsis

Two Women, Two Wives, Two Lives... 

The Disobedient Wife intertwines the narratives of a naïve, British expatriate, Harriet, and that of her maid Nargis, who possesses an inner strength that Harriet comes to admire as their lives begin to unravel against a backdrop of violence and betrayal.

Through Harriet’s journal, we see Tajikistan through the eyes of an ex-secretary and diplomat's wife.  She is blissfully unaware of the underground Islamism that threatens the stability of the iron regime and ignorant to the hardships that face the ordinary people in her employ.

By contrast, Nargis is a young, single mother supporting two children and elderly parents, tainted by scandal for leaving her abusive second husband. Harriet helps her start a business and Nargis starts to lift herself out of poverty, only to face new obstacles, becoming entangled with drug traffickers who threaten her life... 

Rich with sense of place and deeply humane, Milisic-Stanley brings the acute observation of an artist and social anthropologist to bear on this moving and compelling story of how two women survive and thrive in difficult circumstances.

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.’

Getting To Know... Rachel Dove

Today on Getting To Know... I have the very lovely Rachel Dove, author of The Chic Boutique On Baker St.

You mainly write contemporary romance, what is it that draws you to this genre?

The happy ever after. I want to know that after all the drama, the kissing of frogs, the bad blind dates, the heartbreak, that the characters will fall in love and run off into the sunset for lots of sex and nights under the stars. I have no time for gits, romantic love rats, or cheaters, so it's a lot of fun to write them and see them get their comeuppance. Whenever I read a book in this genre, I know I am in for a good read, and a taste of someone's life. I love the genre so much, and I never get bored.

What was the inspiration behind The Chic Boutique on Baker St?

I was helping my husband at work, and was based on a small row of shops, with a dog groomers next door. I was flicking through my Prima mag, and saw the Mills & Boon Flirty Fiction Competition. From then, the pad and pen were out and Amanda and Ben popped into my head. My husband actually helps me a lot with ideas, whether he knows it or not!

You contributed stories for the three volumes of Tortured Hearts, how different is the process writing a short story to writing a novel and do you  prefer writing one over the other?

Writing a novel is harder because it takes longer, and you are constantly engrossed in it, whether at your desk or not. A short story can be a burst of passion, a nugget of an idea that can be written in a day and worked on the day after. Both are hard, but I think that short stories are harder to write personally, as you only have a limited space to tell your story, to evoke the feelings. The Tortured Hearts series was fabulous to work on, and we have raised over £2,000 so far for cancer charities, which is very close to my heart.

The stories in Tortured Hearts are not your typical love story, they show the darker side of love. Did you enjoy this kind of writing and will we see more of it in the future?

I think I definitely have two sides to my writing persona, and I love this kind of writing as well. I'm a bit of a Jeykll and Hyde in that respect! I have written two other short stories, which are out in ebook from Bayou Brew Publishing, and I do plan to explore more of the stories I have in my head at some point. I think working in two genres is tricky, but you have to write what you want to write. If people like it, then all the better, but with the dark writing it's purely for the love of something different, of suspending belief.

When you're writing, do you have a set routine you like to follow?

I wish! I have a young family at home, and now write full time, but I tend to grab time whenever I can. When the children are older, I plan to treat myself to a few writing retreats, to really crack on and work, but for now, I work around school runs, shopping errands, hospital appointments and loading the dishwasher. I try to write at least 500 words a day, and then with promotion and reading for pleasure and research, it does add up to a few hours a day.

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

Hanging out with my kids and our dog and cat, cleaning (snore), going to the gym, planning the next story in my head. I live a pretty quiet life now, much quieter than when I was juggling studying and teaching adults too. I took a year off in January to concentrate on writing and my family, so this year is all about the calm. I complete my degree next year, so then I want to undertake a Masters Degree and perhaps head back to teaching, so I am making the most of the quiet life for now! I used to work 7 days a week, so this year has been a blessing.

I have also been doing library talks and events since my book came out in April, appearing on radio, in magazines etc so I have been pretty busy.

Other than writing do you have any other talents?

I am a qualified beauty therapist (again, to help my husband's business), a qualified post 16 teacher in family learning, and I have qualifications in sign language and working with SEN children.

I am a perpetual student, and am also currently studying a Writers Bureau course in writing for children, and I won their Writer of the Year award in January this year.

I am awful at cooking, and despise it, but I can bake well, and I like to do cross stitch or make handmade cards for a hobby on an evening.

Do you have a favourite author?

I have many! My favourite book is Wuthering Heights, but I read pretty much any genre. The Hunger Games is a fantastic trilogy, and I always have a Mills & Boon handy. The new genre, NA, is capturing my attention too. So many engaging and hot reads out there! Jamie McGuire led the way with Beautiful Disaster, and I always buy her books when they come out. I am just going through Colleen Hoover's books too, they are breathtaking in places.

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

Agatha Mayweather is so real to me that I wish she existed. I loved creating her, and I plan for her to be heard from again too. Marcus has a soft spot too, even though he is a total douche bag. Writing him was very therapeutic.

What can we look forward to following The Chic Boutique on Baker St?

I recently sold a short story to Australian That's Life, and plan to submit more for publication in magazines. I am writing a new romance at the moment, which will be completed this summer, and I have plans for 2 more books set in Westfield, like Chic Boutique too. I still enter competitions too, so I am always writing something! At the moment the only thing I suffer from is the lack of time to write it all down!

Thank you so much to Rachel for taking the time to answer my questions! 

The Chic Boutique On Baker St. synopsis

Amanda is making the idyllic escape to the countryside to find a new life. Ben is picking up the pieces of his life after his wife left. Could a chance encounter outside Amanda's 'chic boutique' set them on the road to renewed happiness? Shop owner Amanda leaves London behind for life in the country and finds love with local vet Ben in this fun, addictive winner of the Prima Flirty Fiction competition.

To buy a copy of The Chic Boutique On Baker St click HERE. 

To Connect with Rachel Dove

Twitter - @WriterDove

Facebook Page

Website

Shadow Of The Beast by Michael Fowler - Blog Tour

Today is my stop on the Shadow Of The Beast by Michael Fowler blog tour and I'm excited to bring you my 5* review! 

Shadow Of The Beast synopsis

A DS Hunter Kerr Novel

‘A new terror is sweeping Barnwell and Hunter faces a killer whose evil surpasses all others.’

The discovery of a skeleton buried beneath the altar of an old chapel should not have raised an eyebrow, but this one was different. This one had been savagely murdered, and all the evidence points to the blood-thirsty killer the press have dubbed ‘The Beast of Barnwell’; a killer who has already served time for the brutal murder of a young girl and is now free.

Is this his handiwork?

In the midst of the enquiry, a 22 year old woman is abducted on her way home from work. Is there a link?

To add to Hunter’s workload his former boss, Michael Robshaw, is deliberately mown down and left for dead.

Why?

In his search for the truth Hunter returns to his undercover roots - with deadly consequences.

My Review

Let me start by saying that I absolutely loved this book! It was my first Michael Fowler book and I will be going out to read all his previous books too. Shadow of the Beast is the fifth outing of DS Hunter Kerr, but this can definitely be read as a stand alone or as your first taste of Michael Fowler's writing. 

Shadow of the Beast is very well written and is fast paced and easy to read. There is enough police lingo to make it feel realistic and to submerse you in the story without losing a lay person with too much jargon. The police procedure side was also shown just enough to give an idea of what the police have to go through in an investigation without it slowing the pace of the book or lessening the excitement. 

DS Hunter Kerr is an amazing lead man, he is hard when he needs to be but has a soft side which is shown in his relationships with his friends and family alike. It's nice to see another hardened police man with a happy marriage and children. I also think his relationship with his partner Beth is brilliant, there is no sexual tension, they are just two really good friends with a healthy dose of competition between them to be the best. 

The main story follows a discovery of bones beneath a demolished church and moves quickly from there when other remains are found and then all seem to be linked to the "Beast Of Barnwell". It was interesting to see the investigation go from having no leads, to it picking up pace the further into it they got, it felt like a really natural progression. You're kept guessing at what's been going on and who it could be and I was actually surprised at the end. 

Overall between the excellent story-line and the extremely likeable characters I really enjoyed this book and I flew through it. I will be (and have been) recommending this book to people! 

About The Author

Michael Fowler was born and brought up in the Dearne Valley area of Yorkshire where he still lives with his wife.

At the age of 16 he left school with the ambition of going to art college but his parents’ financial circumstances meant he had to find work and so he joined the police.

He has never regretted that decision, serving as a police officer for thirty-two years, both in uniform and in plain clothes, working in CID, and undercover in Vice Squad and Drug Squad, retiring as an Inspector in charge of a busy CID in 2006.

Since leaving Michael has embarked on two careers: he is an established author with two crime series to his name: DS Hunter Kerr and DS Scarlett Macey, and he has also co-written a true crime story.

He is a member of the Crime Writers Association and International Thriller Writers.

Michael has also found considerable success as an artist, receiving numerous artistic accolades. Currently his work can be found in the galleries of Spencer Coleman Fine Arts at Lincoln and  Stamford.

Find out more at  www.mjfowler.co.uk

or follow him on Twitter @MichaelFowler1

Pre Order Shadow Of The Beast HERE

And don't forget to check out the rest of the blog tour!