Sharon Booth's Blog, page 11

My Monday guest, Sharon Booth, author of fun-filled fiction with a heart

sharon:

I’ve been interviewed on the lovely Siobhan Daiko’s blog!

Originally posted on Siobhan Daiko:

Today, I’m absolutely delighted to welcome the lovely Sharon Booth.

Please tell us something about yourself, Sharon.

I write contemporary romance—”Fun-filled fiction with heart”. My first two books, There Must Be an Angel and A Kiss from a Rose, are the first half of the Kearton Bay series, set in a fictional village on the North Yorkshire coast, inspired by Robin Hood’s Bay. I’ve also had a People’s Friend pocket novel published recently. I’m one tenth of the Write Romantics, a blogger, a sugar addict, a Whovian, and I’m shamefully prone to getting huge crushes on gorgeous actors.

Ah! How would you describe yourself as a colour?

I’d love to say I’m a deep, mysterious, purple kind of person, or a sexy midnight blue or something. If I’m being honest, though, I’m definitely a pastel person. I can’t stay too serious for too long, and…

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The Art of Christmas by Jane Lovering

I think The Art of Christmas is, quite possibly, the perfect Christmas story. For a start, unlike a lot of “Christmas” books, it is actually set at Christmas. The story starts just ten days before the big day, and continues until the twenty-fifth of December. There is snow. There is a Christmas tree. There are mince pies (sort of!) and even a mention of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen – not to mention a rather leaky dog, wearing antlers. I’m not making this up, honestly. This book shouts Christmas and really gets you into the spirit of the occasion.

As if all that wasn’t enough, there is romance, a bit of a mystery, and several mentions of Doctor Who. No wonder I think it’s perfect! Seriously, the minute I started reading this, I was pulled into the life of the heroine, Harriet – a young widow, whose husband, Jonno, died unexpectedly around eighteen months previously. Harriet has decided that, this year, she will acknowledge Christmas, so we find her, at the start of the story, venturing into the loft to rescue the Christmas tree. Luckily for Harriet, she finds more than a Christmas tree up there. Stumbling across a pile of comic books she didn’t know her husband possessed, she takes them downstairs and, despite her lack of interest in the books that Jonno was so passionate about, she finds herself flicking through the pages.

Having sold most of her husband’s collection to a dealer the previous year, she calls him again, asking if he can price up this latest discovery. Kell remembers the fragile young widow and offers to come round to her house to take a look at them. Having struggled through a loss of his own, the two of them have an instant connection, and an easy rapport. But Kell also remembers Jonno, and a chance remark throws doubt on everything Harriet thought she knew. If she’s to have any kind of future, she has to find out the truth about her past, so, like Corinthia, the comic book heroine who bears a remarkable resemblance to her, Harriet gathers her courage, strides out into an uncertain world, and confronts the unknown.

The Art of Christmas is just gorgeous. Harriet’s grief is so beautifully described that I had a lump in my throat as I read. Kell is a fantastic hero – laid back and casual, decent and honest. I loved his relationship with his crazy dog, Frodo, his passion for and knowledge of comic books and their artists, his easy manner, his rather unexpected socks. Most of all, I loved the understanding and patience he shows Harriet.

This is just the book to read to get you in the mood for Christmas. If you’re feeling a bit “bah, humbug”, pick up this little gem of a book, and I guarantee you’ll be craving mince pies and egg nog before you reach the end. And looking forward to the Doctor Who special even more, of course! Merry Christmas!

You can buy The Art of Christmas here

Warm Hearts in Winter by Helen Pollard

Feeling sad at the events in Paris, I wanted to turn off the television, retreat from social media, and escape into a good book. Having heard about, and buying this short novel, just this morning, it seemed like the perfect distraction. In the event, it far exceeded my expectations.

Warm Hearts In Winter is a lovely, cosy romance. It’s mostly set in the wilds of Yorkshire, and the main action takes place inside the hero’s house, where he is snowed in along with his new PA. Now, if that’s not a perfect setting for a romance, I don’t know what is.

Jack is a writer. Famed for his pacy thrillers, recently his style has changed somewhat. The change in direction has been instigated by the death of his much-loved wife. Jack is still grieving, and has locked himself away in his Yorkshire home, determined to finish his latest book. To that end, he needs help. He needs someone to make sense of his scribblings, type up his notes, fuel him with cups of tea and coffee, and even feed him now and then. He has been expecting the elderly lady who helped him with his last book to return, but Mrs Macintosh has been called away to help her sister, and he finds himself with a temp sent by an agency.

Abby is not what he’s been expecting at all, but then, Jack is hardly what she had in mind, either. Getting off to a somewhat shaky start, the two of them have to accept that – given the weather conditions and the remote location of Jack’s house – Abby is going nowhere, and they may as well work together. It soon becomes clear that there is an attraction between them. But Abby has issues about relationships with her employer, and Jack is still grieving for his wife. Neither of them wants their attraction to develop into anything deeper.

But with the snow falling outside, the cosy fire burning inside, and their close proximity as they work together on Jack’s book, can they stop their feelings from growing? And when danger threatens, Jack and Abby find they are drawn even closer together. Who is watching them? Who is making the silent phone calls? Is the house that shelters them from the snow as safe as they imagine?

Warm Hearts in Winter is just delightful. It wraps itself around you like a blanket, leaving you with a warm heart of your own. A gorgeous romance, with two main characters that you can’t help but love. A hint of mystery. A beautiful and deeply romantic location. I absolutely loved this book, and it came to me at just the right moment. In a sad world, it’s good to reflect on the power of love, and remember it’s never too late for a second chance. 5/5

You can buy Warm Hearts in Winter here.

What Rosie Found Next by Helen J Rolfe

This is another lovely story from Helen J Rolfe. I loved Magnolia Creek and could picture it very clearly in my mind, thanks to her beautiful descriptions of the town. I’m delighted to see that there will be further books set in this lovely location.

Rosie is a great character. She arrives in Magnolia Creek for work reasons – she is looking after a house while its owners are away, and will have the place all to herself. Except, the owners’ son has different ideas. He has arrived back home, knowing his parents are out of the way, and he is on a mission. Owen knows there is a secret that his parents are keeping from him, and he wants to know what it is. While he has the house to himself, he is determined to find it. When he finds Rosie installed in the family home, it’s a huge inconvenience to him.

Rosie’s not that keen on sharing the house, either, particularly with this stranger who doesn’t seem particularly welcoming. Things between the two of them start off quite awkwardly, understandably, but as time goes on they begin to develop a rapport. The arrival of Rosie’s boyfriend, Adam, throws up some interesting questions that she has been trying not to dwell on. Is Adam the right man for her, after all?

With Owen still intent on discovering what his parents are keeping from him and Rosie trying to sort out her feelings for Adam, both are on a hunt for the truth, and their search ensures they become ever more entangled with each other. Then a bush fire breaks out close by and the action cranks up a further gear. Danger is coming closer. Will there be a happy ending for Rosie and Owen?

I have never read books set in Australia (apart from The Thorn Birds) until I started reading Helen J Rolfe’s books, but I’ve really enjoyed both this one and Handle Me With Care. The setting is so well described, and the terror of the ever present threat of bush fires is really brought home in What Rosie Found Next. The actual fire scenes were gripping. I could feel the heat on my skin and the smoke choking my throat as I read. I would definitely recommend this novel, and I’m looking forward to seeing what happens next in Magnolia Creek. 5/5

Buy What Rosie Found Next here.

There Must Be An Angel review plus interview

I’m over on the JaffaReadsToo blog today. I’m being interviewed like a proper writer (!) and there’s a fabulous review of There Must Be an Angel, too, which has quite made my day! Here are the links.

You can read the interview here.

And the lovely review here.

Thank you to Jo Barton (and Jaffa) for inviting me along. :)

Weekend Whinge

Oh, I’m feeling very sorry for myself today. I’ve only been back at work five days, after recuperating from an operation to have my appendix removed, and now, here I am, coughing away as if I’m Pipe Smoker of the Year. (Is there still such a thing? I know there used to be, but surely not now in these politically correct days. What a shame I’m too bone idle to check.) My throat is sore, and my voice is croaky. It seems very harsh to me. I mean, I’m still having to encase my legs in those deeply uncomfortable surgical stockings. Haven’t I suffered enough?

Image: Wikipedia

Too yummy to resist

To add to my woes, I got a new phone yesterday. After having an Android phone for four years, I made the momentous decision to get a Windows phone instead. What can I say? I’m pure rock and roll. Anyway, the phone duly arrived and, having been reassured by everyone who owned one that it was easy to set up and use, I put aside a whole half hour to get the thing up and running. Hmm. Might have been a teensy bit optimistic there. After two hours of snarling at the screen and tapping in and out of various apps and pages, growing increasingly frustrated, I finally gave up and sulked for twenty minutes instead. Luckily, Doctor Who was on and I had a family size bag of Revels to scoff, so calm was resumed fairly quickly.

On the plus side, I have almost, almost got book three ready to send out to my beta readers. Just a few more tweaks and it will be winging its merry way to them. I’ve also got it booked in with the editor and I’m now on a tight deadline, due to her understandable popularity. The book must be with her straight after Christmas, so I have to hurry up! Hopefully, it will be out in early spring.

Is it odd that I’m developing a love for sheep?

I’m a bit nervous sending this one out as it’s not a Kearton Bay book. It’s mostly set in the Yorkshire Dales, and is quite a departure from my other books as it’s written in third person and from multiple viewpoints – five I think. Is that right? Let me check…Yep, five. And none of them sheep. (It will all become clear when you read it. You will read it, right?) So, it’s all unfamiliar territory, and I’m hoping my beta readers will enjoy it, or, if not, at least be able to explain why not so I can try to fix it. I won’t cry. Honestly. Luckily for me – and it’s quite a coincidence this – my new hero is the spitting image of Aidan Turner. I’ve had to spend an extraordinary amount of time Googling images of the actor, browsing YouTube clips,  watching old episodes of Being Human and studying the glorious first season of Poldark, just so that I could get a “feel” for the look of the man. It was jolly hard work, but I’m nothing if not thorough. I may have to continue studying him for some time – probably long after the book is available for sale and I’ve moved on to the next one. Aidan Turner with a Yorkshire accent. Right grand.

A rather more appealing image

As I’m writing this, the sky is looking very grey and heavy again. It was pouring down with rain yesterday. I didn’t have to go out anywhere and so I put the lamp on, turned up the heating, took out my laptop and got on with the editing. It was a good day, apart from the phone fiasco, the coughing, the sore throat, and the fact that our dog kept pacing up and down and barking every five minutes as the fireworks began. Remember the good old days when fireworks went off on November the fifth? Now they start in October and carry on until New Year’s Day. My daughter gave us a couple of aromatherapy candles for the dog, as they’re supposed to calm them. They worked the first couple of nights, but last night, nothing would soothe her. I really hate fireworks, and I’m always worried about the stray animals out there. Ban fireworks, I say! Or at least, only allow them in organised displays. You see how out of sorts I’m feeling? I’m sitting here like a grumpy old woman with my surgical stockings, my stockpile of throat lozenges, my phone-behaving-badly, and a scowl on my face. Don’t you just love that image? Well, have a look at the picture of Aidan Turner. That will soothe you. Mmm, Aidan Turner…

Anyway, this week will mostly be spent (when I’m not at the day job) finishing the edits and sending the book off, finalising cover details, and trying to come up with a blurb. If I can cope after all that, I may even look at my phone again and try to work out how to operate the dratted thing. If I remember correctly, I hated my Android phone when I got it, and grew so frustrated with it I wanted to hurl it out of the window. Maybe I’ll grow to love my Windows phone eventually. Oh, here comes the rain. Time to put the lamp on, turn up the heating and get back to work. Why didn’t I save any of those Revels?

Have a great week xx

Rosie

Rosie was just eleven weeks old when we got her. She was the runt of the litter, and had kennel cough. Not a good

Baby Rosie with her “big brother” Jake, and Jamie and Jemma.

start for any puppy. However, Rosie went from strength to strength, and we should have known then that she was a dog with real courage and determination. She was a small dog with a big heart and a stubborn nature, and that ensured that she lived eleven years with exceptionally good health. She impressed the vet as it was only in her final few months that she developed a heart murmur and began to slow down. She never lost her puppy spirit.

Rosie, a pretty Blenheim Cavalier.

While our other dog, Jake, had looked to human beings for guidance, Rosie looked to Jake. She thought the world of him, and the two of them were very close right up to the end. When our daughter left home, she couldn’t bear to leave Rosie behind, and we knew that Rosie would be miserable without Jake, so eventually it was decided that the two of them would move in with our daughter, leaving us with our German Shepherd. Jemma and Sarah could not have done more for Rosie. They took great care of her, and I’m so proud of them for the way they fussed over the two dogs, giving them so much love and attention.

Rosie’s last supper that wasn’t!

When Rosie became ill, there was a sense of inevitability about it. We knew Cavaliers had a strong chance of developing heart problems, and we’d half expected something to happen for years, in spite of Rosie’s zest for life and her apparent good health. When she was diagnosed with the heart murmur, we were afraid, but the vet assured us that she could still live a comfortable life for a while, as long as she took her medication. When her condition suddenly deteriorated a couple of weeks ago, it was a huge shock. This little dog had taken no notice of the fact that she was supposed to be ill, and had been chasing around like a puppy, ignoring her health problems.  She was so poorly that she was given only hours to live, and we kissed her goodbye, thinking we would never see her again. Jemma and Sarah treated her to a steak dinner, believing it to be her last ever meal, and even sat her at the breakfast bar to eat it!

Rosie, however, hadn’t been told that she had only hours to live, and rallied magnificently, the way Rosie did. Within a day, she was trotting round the house, wagging her tail and tucking into scrambled eggs. We were all highly delighted, thinking she’d had a reprieve. Well, it wasn’t to be. Today, Rosie finally passed away. She was with Jemma and Sarah, and she knew she was loved. It was a peaceful and quick end to the life of this beautiful little dog, who was a real character. She would stand on her hind legs and circle round and round like a circus dog, and she never stopped behaving like an inquisitive little puppy. She was a joy, and I’m so grateful to have known her, and to have had her as part of my life. I’m so grateful that Jemma and Sarah took such good care of her, and that she had Jake, and later, Brian the cat, as her close companions.

Rest in peace, little Rosie. You were the light of our lives. God bless you, little one. xxx

Rosie: 4.8.04 – 29.10.15

 

October’s Swings and Roundabouts

I can’t believe how fast the year is moving on, and that it’s almost November already. I’ve had a bit of a mixed October, truth to tell. You just never know what’s in store for you, and maybe that’s a good thing.

Hull Fair (Wikipedia)

The month started in its usual fashion. October isn’t my favourite month. I don’t look forward to the clocks going back an hour, and leaving work in the darkness isn’t my idea of fun. Even the prospect of Europe’s largest travelling fair arriving in Hull doesn’t cheer me up much, because I rarely go these days. Hull Fair was only something to look forward to with great excitement when I was a child. As a parent of young children it was something that had to be budgeted for – those rides did not come cheap, and nor did the food and toys that inevitably had to be purchased before we could leave, trailing five tired but happy children behind us. Now I’m older, I can’t stand the thought of shuffling down a jam-packed street, full of stalls and caravans, barely able to move forward for the crowds of people. Not to mention all the noise and bright lights blaring from  the rides. No thanks. The only thing I like about the fair is the brandysnap, and since my daughter was going she offered to buy me a bag of it, so no need to venture anywhere near, thank God.

I’d been cutting out sugar all October, so I asked her to hang on to the brandysnap until November. I was surprised how easy I was finding it to give up the sweet snacks. DH and I had decided to do our own version of Stoptober, giving up junk food instead of cigarettes (I don’t smoke and the chances of him quitting are zilch) and we were doing well, but the best laid plans and all that…

One morning last week, I woke up at 3am, and realised I was in pain. It was right in the middle of my tummy, and I wondered if it was something I’d eaten. I don’t like taking painkillers if I can possibly avoid it, so I struggled to get back to sleep for half an hour, but it wasn’t going away. Reluctantly, I headed downstairs, took two paracetamol and filled a hot water bottle and went back to bed. I eventually fell asleep, but within a couple of hours I was awake and in pain again. DH was awake by then, so we went downstairs and I topped up the hot water bottle and tried to pretend it wasn’t happening. By 7.45 I felt bad enough to ring work and tell them I wouldn’t be coming in. By lunch time, I was in enough pain to start panicking. The pain had moved to the lower right hand side of my abdomen, and I had a horrible feeling I knew what was happening. When I couldn’t get upstairs without crying out in agony at every step, I knew I couldn’t mess around any longer.

flowers from mum and sister

By some miracle, I managed to get an appointment with my GP that afternoon, and a quick examination later, I was on the way to A & E with a letter from my doctor clutched in my hand. I was in that department for five and a half hours, during which time I had bloods taken, a canula fitted, tubes carrying IV antibiotics and painkillers attached, and had been examined and prodded by three further doctors, who were all pretty certain it was appendicitis, but felt it necessary to jab me right on the site of the pain, just to make sure. Eventually, I was admitted to the ward. By this time it was midnight, and I was nil by mouth, as it was thought I would be having an operation the next day.

The following morning, after reluctantly donating what seemed like an armful of blood, and having been turned into a human pin cushion, I had a CT scan which confirmed the diagnosis, and I was told I’d be operated on that day. I waited and waited, signing a consent form and continuing to be nil by mouth while my “ward mates” drank tea and scoffed their meals, and finally, at half past eleven at night, the anaesthetist came to see me, to talk me through the procedure, and explain the risks. She’d just gone off to see the ward sister when the surgeon arrived to tell me that the operation was being cancelled. He said that, due to a shortage of staff after midnight, they didn’t like to carry out these procedures, unless it was life or death, at that time of night, but would schedule me for the next morning. I could have something to eat and drink, and then be nil by mouth again from 2am.

The nurse brought me a cup of tea and some cheese and crackers, and it was the finest meal I’d ever had. By then I was starving. Due to our attempts at Stoptober, I’d fasted the day before the pain started. On the day I went to the doctor’s, I’d only managed a few spoonfuls of cereal first thing that morning, as I felt sick, and then I’d been nil by mouth. All told, I’d not eaten or drunk anything for around forty-two hours, and believe me, the intravenous fluids were no match for a cream cracker and a chunk of Cheddar!

I was taken down to theatre at around three in the afternoon, and text DH to let him know. Unfortunately, an emergency came in, and I was told the operation was being postponed for a couple of hours, so I was left on the trolley waiting. I couldn’t let anyone know but I assumed someone would have told them back on the ward. They hadn’t. My “ward mates” were chewing their nails wondering what the hell was taking so long, and poor DH and my kids were having nervous breakdowns. I, meanwhile, was having a nice chat with a friendly little nurse and a rather lovely New Zealand ex-rugby player with a broken leg, who was lying on the trolley next to mine, while we flicked through the channels on the television remote, arguing about what to watch. He wanted to see some cookery programme, which personally I thought was just cruel, considering how long we’d been starved. We both agreed that Jeremy Kyle was the one thing we’d never want to see. We eventually settled on The Big Bang Theory, although he got carted off for his op and missed it, and the friendly little nurse talked all the way through it, but hey ho. I finally had my operation at half past five the following evening, and by eight o’clock the next morning I was having breakfast and, apart from a headache, I felt absolutely fine, if a bit sore.

Write Romantic flowers

I was discharged that afternoon, and headed home feeling a bit shell-shocked at how quickly everything had happened, and how suddenly appendicitis had come on. I’d been fine all day, and gone to bed feeling perfectly well. It was astonishing how quickly it flared up – although, looking back, I had been a bit nauseous for a couple of days. On the plus side, I’d had a lot of fun playing with the electric bed and recreating the scene in The Simpsons – “Bed goes up, bed goes down” – and I was home in plenty of time for Doctor Who.

So, unexpectedly, I had a sick note for two weeks off work. I’m still sore, and don’t feel a hundred per cent, but it’s not been as bad I expected. I was lucky. I know two members of my family who really suffered badly when they had appendicitis, so I feel I got off lightly, all told. I also couldn’t have wished for kinder, calmer, lovelier nursing staff. They were absolutely delightful and I’m so grateful to them.

I was treated to a lovely bunch of flowers by my mum and sister when they came to see me the following day. As if that wasn’t enough, the next day, a gorgeous basket of flowers arrived, with love from my Write Romantic buddies. I was so touched and they really cheered me up. Then, just yesterday, another huge bouquet arrived, complete with a  box of chocolates, from all my mates at work. They’ve all been really lovely, considering how short staffed they are, and how much pressure they must be under with me adding to their burden.

flowers from colleagues

With my wounds healing and my discomfort lessening – in spite of the rather fetching surgical stockings that I have to wear for six weeks – I thought October would settle down. But no. The next thing was that our daughter’s little Cavalier, Rosie, was taken seriously ill. At eleven years old, she’d done very well for a dog of that breed, having no weight issues and only starting to have health problems in the last year. She has heart failure and has been on medication for some months, but has always kept her inquisitive nature and been almost as lively as ever. I’d bought Rosie when she was just eleven weeks old, but when my daughter left home, she took her with her, as she couldn’t bear to be parted from her, and she took our other dog, Jake, with her, too, as Rosie couldn’t bear to be parted from him, leaving us with our German Shepherd. However, we still see Rosie and Jake whenever we visit our daughter, who doesn’t live far away, and she’s still very much part of our family. So when we heard that Rosie had been rushed to the vet’s we were very worried. The news wasn’t good. The vet explained that she had only days to live, and it would be kinder to put her to sleep. My daughter and daughter-in-law brought her round to say goodbye, and we all cried. It was hard to believe she could be so ill, as she was still wandering round the living room, sniffing every corner, wagging her tail at us. But the vet had found a very feeble pulse, and her gums had been white. He said that her heart couldn’t physically do the work it was supposed to do any more.

Rosie

Rosie went back to the vet at 7pm and DH and I watched the clock with tears in our eyes, feeling sick. Imagine our amazement when, just twenty minutes later, Rosie was carried back into our living room, and we learned that she’d made a miraculous recovery. The vet thought she must have had a heart attack that morning, which had caused the problem, but she was now trotting round, with her pulse back to normal and her gums pink again. Unbelievable! This time we all cried for joy. Personally, I think it must have been the steak that they treated her to as her “last supper”.

Since then, Rosie has had a couple of days of feeling tired, and she’s wearing special doggy nappies due to the tablets she’s on making her incontinent, but she went to the vet again today, and he’s happy with her. She’s tucking into scrambled egg and enjoying all the fuss. We know she may not have long, but for now she’s had a reprieve, and we couldn’t be happier.

Finally, my last news for now is that, on Thursday 22nd October, my first pocket novel for People’s Friend appeared in the shops. All Because of Baxter is on sale right now, and it’s about how a dog can change your life for the better, in the most unexpected ways. That has never seemed more appropriate!

I had dreamed about going to WH Smith and seeing my book on the shelves,

All Because of Baxter

but, unfortunately, I wasn’t up to going into town. However, it was great to see it in our local supermarket, and I snapped up three copies. My mum went to WH Smith and bought the very last copy! She then went to Asda and bought another three copies, and to another shop where she got the last two copies. These have been duly distributed to her neighbours and some of our relatives. Bless her, she’s my biggest fan. She was pretty disgruntled to discover, however, that no matter how many copies she sold for me, I wouldn’t be paid any extra! I can’t explain the sense of achievement I felt, seeing my name on a People’s Friend pocket novel. I don’t know if it’s because People’s Friend is such a big and well-respected brand, or if it’s because I could finally see one of my books on an actual shelf in a physical shop, rather than on screen in Amazon’s virtual store. Maybe it was a combination of both. I know it delighted my mum that she could go into a shop and see a novel with her daughter’s name on it sitting there.

So that was my October, and there’s still a week to go! Stoptober went out of the window, as I’ve eaten loads since getting home from hospital, so I may have to do it all over again next month. I hardly dare think what may happen before I turn the page of the calendar and we head into November. Let’s hope the eleventh month will be a bit quieter all round! :)

Have a great week xxx

The Girl Who Lived By The River (Part One) by Mark Daydy

And now for something a little different…

This book isn’t strictly speaking a romantic novel, although there is romance in it, in an Adrian Mole loves Pandora Braithwaite sort of way. It’s about a teenage boy, his friends, his family, and growing up in the seventies. And I loved it.

It’s 1975, and Tom Alder is fast approaching his sixteenth birthday. Like most boys of his age, Tom is obsessed with music and girls. He is a huge fan of Genesis, and progressive rock, and has a massive crush on the rather posh sounding Megan, who has practised hard to achieve her plummy accent. But what if he could use his love of music to help him get the girl?

And so Tom comes up with a bright idea. He will form a band, and Megan will be so impressed, she’ll fall for him and help him achieve his current ambition – to lose his virginity before he turns sixteen. There’s just one small problem. He can’t play an instrument, doesn’t sing, and has more or less informed Megan that his band already exists. When his so-called school mates get hold of the tape he’s made of his “band”‘s first efforts, it becomes painfully clear to Tom that his grand plan isn’t going to be so easy to carry out after all.

This is a fabulously funny story, which really gets into the mindset of a teenage boy in 1975. Tom’s hormones are all over the place, and his confusion over Megan, musically gifted Claire, and physically appealing Cheryl, is clear to see. The setting is unfamiliar to me, but is so vividly described that it’s easy to picture.

As a child of the seventies, I found the period details familiar and heartwarming. The descriptions of the clothes, the food and drink, and, especially, the music, evoked fabulous memories.

There was also an intriguing thread running through the story concerning Tom’s family. There is obviously some secret there that has yet to be revealed, which I’m looking forward to. I found the whole plotline about Tom’s “lost brother” quite poignant, and think there is more to come from that quarter.

This book is being published in several parts, so it’s quite short and very easy to read. It made me laugh out loud, and I will definitely buy the next part to find out how Tom’s life progresses. A great little read. 5/5

You can buy The Girl Who Lived By The River (Part One) here .

It’s Publication Day: Book Two is Out!

Meet Rose MacLean – the straight-talking, pink-haired, livewire who is the heroine of book two in the Kearton Bay Series. A Kiss from a Rose is released today, and it can’t come a moment too soon. It feels like I’ve been living with this book forever.

So what’s A Kiss from a Rose about? Well, it takes us back to Kearton Bay, the North Yorkshire coastal village which was the setting for There Must Be An Angel. Those of you who read the first book will remember Rose, who ran a less-than-successful cafe called Pinky’s, which was decorated in debilitating shades of her favourite colour, and was the place she foisted her rather second – or third – rate baking on the few customers she managed to attract. Rose was doing battle with her eldest daughter, Fuchsia, and trying her best to keep youngest daughter, Cerise, on the straight and narrow. She was also an extremely good friend to Eliza, heroine of book one.

In A Kiss from a Rose, the story has moved on, and Rose is now a partner with Eliza in their gourmet marshmallow business, Mallow Magic. At the start of the story, her work life is settled, Fuchsia has a job, and Cerise is doing well at school. It’s the day of Eliza’s and Gabriel’s wedding, and she is chief bridesmaid, while Flynn Pennington-Rhys – Gabriel’s best friend and partner – is best man. Rose gets just a teeny bit tipsy, and from that moment on, her life takes on a new direction.

In A Kiss from a Rose, there are secrets galore,  friendship, romance, sadness, grief, a whole lot of laughs, old friends and new characters.  Mostly, there’s an exploration of the complex, maddening, wonderful relationships between mothers and daughters. Not only does Rose have to cope with her sullen, secretive eldest daughter, but Cerise turns into a moody teenager almost overnight, and nearly drives her to distraction. When her own mother arrives in Kearton Bay, Rose has a whole new level of frustration to deal with.

I had a lot of fun writing this book, which was a good job, because Rose forced me into doing it. Seriously. She was only ever meant to be a secondary character, but she absolutely demanded her turn in the limelight, and once she’d got it, she milked it for all it was worth. She wouldn’t behave at all, and did things I had no idea she was going to do. The story took off at a tangent and led me in a whole new direction. I was just as surprised as poor Flynn at her antics. As for her mother…don’t get me started! :)

I hope you enjoy A Kiss from a Rose. It’s available to buy here and it’s just £1.99. Rose is quite cross. She insists she’s worth far more than that!

Have a great week xx