Judith Arnopp's Blog, page 17
May 11, 2022
The Coffee Pot Blog Tour presents: The Admiral’s Wife By M.K. Tod
Book Title: The Admiral’s Wife
Author: M.K. Tod
Publication Date: 11th April 2022
Publisher: Heath Street Publishing
Page Length: 390 Pages
Genre: Dual-Timeline
The Admiral’s Wife
By M.K. Tod
The lives of two women living in Hong Kong more than a century apart are unexpect-edly linked by forbidden love and financial scandal.
In 2016, Patricia Findlay leaves a high-powered career to move to Hong Kong, where she hopes to rekindle the bonds of family and embrace the city of her ancestors. Instead, she is overwhelmed by feelings of displacement and depression. To make matters worse, her fa-ther, CEO of the family bank, insists that Patricia’s duty is to produce an heir, even though she has suffered three miscarriages.
In 1912, when Isabel Taylor moves to Hong Kong with her husband, Henry, and their young daughter, she struggles to find her place in such a different world and to meet the demands of being the admiral’s wife. At a reception hosted by the governor of Hong Kong, she meets Li Tao-Kai, an influential member of the Chinese community and a man she met a decade earlier when he was a student at Cambridge.
As the story unfolds, each woman must consider where her loyalties lie and what she is pre-pared to risk for love.
Trigger Warnings: Brief sex scenes
Read and excerpt
“But it’s your fault I’m American.”
Patricia Findlay heard the pinch of exasperation in her voice and smiled at her father to reduce the sting of her words. The arrogant way he looked at her over the brim of his reading glasses made her think of an aging monarch guarding his empire. And this wasn’t far from the truth. Li Jianyu was the major shareholder of Lotus Commercial Bank, one of Hong Kong’s largest commercial banks. He was a heavyweight in Asian financial markets. If she wanted to work in banking, her father’s connections were crucial.
How had an innocent remark about having coffee with two American women created conflict between them already?
“You aren’t American, you’re Chinese,” her father said, his lips flattening, which she’d learned as a child was a clear sign of displeasure. “Li Mingyu, not Patricia Findlay. It offends me that you don’t use your proper name.”
They were speaking Cantonese, which put her at a disadvantage. Although fluent as a young child, Patricia had lived her entire life in the U.S. and had lost proficiency in speaking the language. As for reading it, she only knew a few of the three thousand characters in everyday use.
“And does my husband offend you too?” Patricia said. “He’s a proper American with a proper American name.” She spoke without thinking and instantly regretted her words.
Her father raised his chin and glared, his black eyes sharp and penetrating as if he wanted to squeeze her soul with his bare hands. He was accustomed to having his way. After so many years apart from him, Patricia thought herself immune to his brand of coercion and control. Yet here they were arguing already, just like they always had.
A year earlier, when Patricia and her husband Andrew had been planning the move to Hong Kong, she hadn’t imagined how difficult it would be to leave everything behind—her demanding job, an intimate group of friends, her husband’s two children, her mother- and father-in-law, who in many ways had become closer than her own parents. Nor had she imagined how disorienting Hong Kong would be.
It was at about the five-month mark when Patricia’s enthusiasm had screeched to a halt, replaced by loneliness and depression and the realization that her life had spun out of its orbit. The gravitational pull of her personal sun and planets—Andrew’s children, her friends, her work, and the city she’d lived in for fifteen years—had disappeared. Other than Andrew, her brother David, and her parents, she was left with nothing familiar, no touchstones to buoy her spirits, no sense of purpose.
In this strange, new world, she wanted her father’s help to regain at least one familiar element of her life. Patricia had enough connections to find a job with one of the western banks located in Hong Kong, but she wanted to experience the Asian banking world. Furthermore, working at Lotus Commercial Bank—LCB—would offer an opportunity to demonstrate her skills to her father and earn his respect. Ultimately, when the time came for her father to step down, she would be able to contribute in a meaningful way.
She loved her father. She really did. She admired his dedication to family, his business acumen, his fierce loyalty to Chinese culture. As a little girl, she had done everything she could think of to compete with her older brother and earn her father’s approval. During her teenage years, he had acknowledged her academic achievements and, unlike Patricia’s mother, encouraged rather than criticized. It was her insistence on remaining in the U.S. that had set them on a collision course.
“Andrew no longer offends me,” her father said. “In the banking world, having an American son-in-law is proving to be an asset.” A thin smile crossed his face. “If he spoke our language better, he would be even more valuable.”
“Is that all people are to you, Ah Ba? Assets or liabilities? I suppose you consider your son a liability.” Why do I always confront him? Nothing good will come of the conversation now.
Li Jianyu removed his glasses and set them next to the bonsai display anchoring one corner of his desk. The black ceramic dish contained pure white sand, a few artfully placed rocks, and a miniature tree leaning heavily to one side as if buffeted by endless winds. There were many days when Patricia felt like that tree.
“Your brother has chosen a different path,” her father said. “I don’t approve of his lifestyle, but a son is a son. And he’s my heir. Perhaps if you’d returned home earlier, his situation would be different.”
Patricia closed her eyes. She took a slow breath in and exhaled completely, a calming technique she’d learned at qigong. “You can’t blame me for David’s ‘lifestyle,’ as you call it. People don’t choose to be gay, Ah Ba. They’re born that way. Whether I lived in New York or Hong Kong, he would still be gay.”
Regardless of the original topic, their conversations often collapsed into the same ratholes—family duty, Chinese superiority, America’s flawed culture, her brother’s way of life. Her father agonized about the future of the bank that his grandfather had founded, and a small part of Patricia sympathized with his disappointment that his only son was gay—a man who would never produce an heir, unless one of her father’s schemes to trick David into marriage proved successful.
As a young adult, Patricia had been the one who wanted to follow her father into business, and at first this had pleased him. When her parents and David left the U.S., she had argued that industry connections and knowledge of American practices would be valuable to the family bank. Her father had reluctantly agreed, and she’d taken a job with Bank of America after graduation. By any measure, her success had been impressive, and as time unfolded, she’d been seduced by opportunities to further her career while resisting her parents’ pleas—her best friend Lesley called them commands—to come home. As far as Patricia was concerned, home had never been Hong Kong. Home had been Chicago, San Francisco, and then New York, where she’d met Andrew Findlay.
Marrying outside her family’s culture and ethnicity had been a severe blow to her parents. During one acrimonious phone call, her father had declared that he was ashamed of her. He’d called her a traitor, a schemer, and a disappointment. After that, they hadn’t spoken for months. It was only Andrew’s efforts to placate her mother and father that had brought about an uneasy truce.
“If you hadn’t been so rebellious, your brother might have taken up a normal life,” her father said now. “You took all the attention away from him. Your mother agrees with me.”
Patricia stifled the obvious rebuttal. “Well, that’s not why I came to see you this morning, Father.” She deliberately used a more formal term of address. “Andrew and I moved to Hong Kong, just as you wanted. We’ve settled in now and I’m grateful you’ve given him a senior role at the bank—”
“But,” her father interrupted, joining his fingers together beneath his chin like a skeptical lawyer.
“Yes, Father, there’s a but.” She took another calming breath. “I have nothing to do. If there isn’t a role for me here at the bank, can you help me find a job somewhere else? You have so much influence in Hong Kong. You can’t expect me to go from an all-consuming career to being a housewife. I’m your daughter. I need—”
He interrupted again. “Your mother does a superb job of looking after our home and social life. Why shouldn’t I expect you to do the same?”
Patricia could never live like her mother—days full of shopping, attending ceremonial teas, receiving reflexology treatments, arranging flowers, visiting ancestral graves, planning twelve-course dinners, consulting with the housekeeper, the cook, and the gardener. Her mother was a true tai tai, a woman of privilege with money to spend and lots of leisure time. As far as Patricia was concerned, those activities filled up the hours but offered no challenge, no feeling of contribution, and nothing to nourish the spirit.
She rose and, as she walked towards the window, touched her father’s prized possessions: a jade Buddha that had once belonged to her great-grandfather; the life-sized figure of a warrior from Xian; a lacquered prayer table, which her father claimed was more than a thousand years old. In one corner of the office, a waterfall spilled down miniature granite steps with a gentle trickling sound. She knew that each of these had been selected and positioned according to feng shui principles to honor both past and future power.
Patricia picked up one of the black stones from her father’s Go board and fingered its smooth surface, an action she knew would irritate him. “Because you raised me to have different expectations,” she said at last, while gazing at the commanding view of mountains, skyscrapers, and a bustling, boat-filled harbor. “Because you encouraged my interest in banking. Because I’m . . .” She’d been about to say, “Because I’m like you,” but she hated the thought that she could ever be as ruthless and manipulative as her father. “Because I’m your daughter.”
“Family secrets and personal ambitions, east and west, collide in this compelling, deeply moving novel." -- Weina Dai Randel, award-winning author of THE LAST ROSE OF SHANGHAI
“Irresistible and absorbing.” Janie Chang, bestselling author of THE LIBRARY OF LEG-ENDS
M.K. (Mary) Tod’s interest in historical fiction began as a teenager immersed in the stories of Rosemary Sutcliff, Jean Plaidy, and Georgette Heyer. In 2004, her husband’s career took them to Hong Kong where, with no job and few prospects, Mary began what became Unravelled, her first novel. The Admiral’s Wife is her fifth novel.Mary’s award-winning blog, www.awriterofhistory.com, focuses on reading and writing his-torical fiction. She’s an active member of the historical fiction community and has conduct-ed five unique reader surveys on topics from readers’ habits and preferences to favorite his-torical fiction authors. Mary is happily married to her high-school sweetheart. They have two adult children and two delightful grandsons.
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May 9, 2022
The Coffee Pot Blog Tours present: The Alcoholic Mercenary by Phil Hughes
Book Title: The Alcoholic Mercenary
Author: Phil Hughes
Publication Date: 30th April 2022
Publisher: PerchedCrowPress
Page Length: 350 Pages
Genre: Historical Crime
The Alcoholic Mercenary
By Phil Hughes
They said, “See Naples and then die!”
Rachel had thought it was to do with the natural beauty of the place. A misconception she soon lost after climbing down from the C130 troop carrier. The suspicious death of her predecessor, followed by the murder of a sailor, and an enforced liaison with a chauvinistic and probably corrupt cop saw to that.
“See Naples and then die!”
Some said the saying was anonymous. Some attributed it to Goethe. Still, others said it was Lord Byron, or maybe Keats. When the young brother of a mercenary hitman became her main suspect, Rachel leant towards Keats. Didn’t the poet die here? Somewhere near, for sure. Probably coined the phrase on his deathbed.
And then, the cherry on the top of her ice cream soda, she could smell grappa on the breath of the mercenary when she interviewed him. The only thing worse than a violent man: a violent man who drinks.
The only thing worse than a violent man who drinks: a violent man who drinks and considers himself Rachel’s enemy.
Available on #KindleUnlimited
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Although educated in Classical Studies, Phil is the author of several historical crime novels. Having spent many years living in the Mafia infested hinterlands of Naples, Phil bases his novels on his experiences while living there. Much of what he includes in his stories is based on real events witnessed first-hand. Having retired from writing and editing technical documentation for a living, Phil now lives in Wexford with his partner and their border terriers, Ruby, Maisy, and the new addition Ted. He writes full time and where better to do it than in the Sunny South East of Ireland.
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May 4, 2022
The Coffee Pot Book Club presents The Missionary by Rowena Kinread
Book Title: The Missionary
Author: Rowena Kinread
Publication Date: 28th April 2021
Publisher: Pegasus Elliot Mackenzie Publishers
Page Length: 357 Pages
Genre: Historical Fiction
The Missionary
By Rowena Kinread
Patricius, a young man of Britannia, is taken from his home and family when Gaelic pirates attack his village. On his arrival in Ireland, he is sold as a slave to the cruel underking of the Dalriada tribe in the north. Six years later, Patricius manages to escape. His journey takes him through France to Ravenna in Italy. His subsequent plans to return to Britannia are side-tracked when he finds himself accompanying several monks to the island monastery on Ler-inus. His devotion to his faith, honed during his captivity, grows as he studies with the monks.Haunted by visions of the Gaels begging him to return to Ireland and share the word of God with them, Patricius gains support from Rome and his friends to return to the land of his captivity. His arrival is bitterly opposed by the druids, who have held power over the Irish kings for many years, and he and his companions must combat the druids to succeed in their God-given mission.
Trigger Warnings: Sex, violence, swearing
Excerpt from ‘The Missionary’ by Rowena Kinread
They trudged on at a steady pace for several hours. Patricius’ initial optimism died rapidly. He had blisters on his toes and heels. The iron shackles had scoured the skin around his ankles, and they were so sore that every step was torture. The goats were no longer patiently obedient but kept stubbornly stopping and trying to munch grass or chomp leaves. Each time they did so, the underking bellowed and let his whip crack. Sometimes the tip nicked Patricius’ back painfully. The track had become narrow in many places where brambles had engulfed the passage, and Patricius’ arms and legs were covered in bloody scratches. They hadn’t passed a single house, farm, village or town. Nor had they seen a single person. When the midges started descending and dusk approached, the light was so poor that Patricius stumbled again and again over tree roots on the ground, scrubbing his knees and nearly losing the goats. The mosquitos began to attack his body, sticky with sweat, and although he tried to wipe them away with his free hand, they feasted upon him, causing swollen red bumps that itched irritably.
The moon had already started to rise in the sky as they emerged from the forest. They entered a glen with rolling hills, and at its base, a small lough. Here they stopped and pitched camp. Orders were shouted back and forth.
The livestock were led to the lakeside to drink and then tethered to trees and fed. Wood was collected and a fire lit. A huge iron pot was suspended on three poles over the fire. The servants boiled water in it and added chunks of meat and vegetables.
Patricius and Domi pointed to their shackles and, motioning with their hands, begged a servant for them to be removed. The servant pointed to the underking, said “Miliucc,” and shook his head.
In the meantime, the underking, Miliucc, had made himself comfortable. He sat on sheepskins, leant his back against a wheel of the wooden cart, and was drinking beer and stroking his dog. He was still wearing his fox stole. When the food was ready, it was brought to him with a loaf of bread. He ate noisily, dipping bread into the stew and slurping. Patricius’ stomach rumbled. He had had nothing to eat all day. Miliucc took his time. When he was eventually satisfied, he fished chunks of meat out of the soup with his grubby fingers and fed them to his dog. She gobbled them up greedily, licking his fingers, whilst Domi, Patricius and the servants watched. Not until she had finished did Miliucc gesture to the servants to take the pot away. The servants fell over the food hungrily, not letting the slaves anywhere near it. Only when they too were finished, were Patricius and Domi allowed to mop up the dregs with a bread crust. Then together, still hungry, Patricius and Domi limped to the lake, washed themselves and cleansed their wounds.
Back at the camp, Patricius used his teeth to rip strips of fabric from his tunic and bandage his ankles, hands and feet. His head was still aching from the blow he had received, and his teeth started to chatter. He edged as near to the fire as he dared, curled up and listened to the leaves rustling in the breeze. Far in the distance, he heard wolves howling, and a grey heron screeched as it flew away from the edge of the lough. He had never felt so afraid and lonely in his entire life.
Available on #KindleUnlimited.
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Rowena Kinread grew up in Ripon, Yorkshire. After leaving school she started working for Lufthansa in Stuttgart. There she met her future husband whom she married in Ripon. After raising 3 children, she began working as a secretary in a private physiotherapy practice. At the same time, she started writing non-fiction books and magazine articles. Retirement fi-nally brought the financial security to start writing full length fiction. A keen interest in his-tory and her own family ancestry inspired her debut novel “The Missionary”, the dramatic story about the life of St.Patrick. A second book “The Scots of Dalriada” will be published this year. Ms. Kinread says that she welcomed retirement and all its wonderful opportuni-ties to launch a third career.
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April 28, 2022
The Coffee Pot Blog Tour presents: The Douglas Bastard (A sequel to The Black Douglas Trilogy) by J R Tomlin
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Book Title: The Douglas Bastard
Series: (A sequel to The Black Douglas Trilogy)
Author: J R Tomlin
Publication Date: 26th April 2022
Publisher: Albannach Publishing
Genre: Historical Fiction
The Douglas Bastard
(A sequel to The Black Douglas Trilogy)
By J R Tomlin
The Black Douglas is dead. With Scotland's greatest knight no more, the throne is up for grabs as enemies try to devour the kingdom.
An orphaned youth returning from exile, Archibald, the Black Douglas's bastard son, fights for a land being torn apart from within and without. If Archibald is to survive, he must learn to sleep with a claymore in his hand and one eye open because even his closest friend might betray him...
This is an adventure set in the bloody Second Scottish War of Independence when Scot-land's very survival is in question.
Read an excerpt
My friend did live though he was months healing, and my beating hurt for only a day or two. He told me that winter was not the season for fighting, so he would not miss much. I spent my days keeping him company, being instructed by Sir John with sword and lance or the priest in reading and writing, and in the company of the men who were happy to regale me with stories of attacks on the English from caves where they hid in the great forest.
Life in the keep still got boring at times. So I welcomed it one chilly spring morning while I was giving his hauberk one more polish when he stopped in the door of the armory. “Come with me, Archie.”
I followed him into the lower bailey, happy to be called away from a boring task. It was a bright, crisp morning, and swallows were twittering between the thatched roofs. He strode to-ward the smithy, its smoke rising straight up. A skein of geese flew overhead, wending their way north. The clang of hammer strikes came from inside, along with the blacksmith’s shout-ing to his son to work the bellows. John and Andrew, Sir William’s bastard half-brother who had just returned from aiding the Stewart, stood chatting in front of the building.
When we entered, John and Andrew following us, the blacksmith leaned over his anvil, ham-mering a heated horseshoe he was forming. His face was broad beneath graying hair, and strong, muscular forearms stuck out of his tunic. He wore a leather apron and leather gloves.
“Right with you, my lord.” He gave the horseshoe another couple of blows, stuck it hissing into a tub of water, and turned, beaming. “I found just the right one for the lad.”
“Let us see it, then.”
This was getting better and better. The smith put down his tools and strode to a table at the side of the smithy. The links of a hauberk clinked when he held it. “It was the smallest you took from that attack on the supply train at yuletide. It needed a few repairs, but those are done.”
Sir William stroked his chin. “Hold it up to him. It looks a bit large.”
I was bouncing, my heart racing, and the smith growled at me to stay still as he held it up to my chest.
“Aye, but he is growing, so that is nae bad thing. He should wear the thickest haubergeon we can find under it until he has grown a bit.” He tilted his head and frowned. “I will make the aventail on his helm long enough to cover any gap around the neck.”
Not able to contain it anymore, I burst out, “It’s to be mine? Truly?”
“My squire must have armor.” A corner of Sir William’s thin mouth twitched.
John slapped me on the back. “I told Liddesdale you are ready. So dinnae let me down.”
“A squire . . .” I had been sure he would make me his squire, but it really happening was like a dream. The smithy appeared to spin for a moment as though I’d had too much ale. I turned to Sir William and burst out, “I will . . . I will serve you well. Always . . . I will be your man.”
Sir William opened his mouth, but what he was about to say was cut off when one of the tower guards beat the iron bar that served as a warning bell and shouted, “In view! Riders in view!”
Sir William turned on his heel and stepped out the open front of the smithy. He called up, “How many?”
“Six riders. Not flying a banner.”
He strode across the bailey and up the steps to the parapet walk. Then he laughed and called down, “Open the sally port.”
I clutched the hauberk in my arms and went out to see that, indeed, only the small door into the bailey was opened, not the big gate. One of the guards on the ground was ushering in the cleric Bullock and his men-at-arms. A ginger-haired, craggy-faced knight strode beside Bullock. Sir William was bounding down the parapet stairs, shouting, “Welcome.” Two grooms were hurry-ing to take their mounts. “Simon Fraser! A welcome sight, my friend.”
“Liddesdale.” Bullock’s wide face was split with a grin. “I have a plan for taking Edinburgh.”
“Edinburgh cannae be taken,” Andrew said gloomily. “Not after the way King Edward strength-ened it.”
“Anything can be taken,” Bullock said. “It is a matter of finding the right way.”
Fraser added, “But we need to move quickly before they are resupplied. Later Bullock’s ruse might not work as well.”
“How many men do they have? Do you ken?” Sir William asked.
“My contact says a hundred or so total, about half men-at-arms and half archers. Also, some watch, half a score or so.”
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J. R. Tomlin is the author of nineteen historical novels.She has close ties with Scotland since her father was a native Scot, and she spent substantial time in Edinburgh while growing up. Her historical novels are set for the most part in Scot-land. Her love of that nation is traced from the stories of Robert the Bruce and the Good Sir James her grandmother read to her when she was small, to hillwalking through the Cairn-gorms where the granite hills have a gorgeous red glow under the setting sun. Later, her writing was influenced by Alexander Dumas, Victor Hugo, Nigel Tranter, and Sir Walter Scott.
When JR isn't writing, she enjoys hiking, playing with her Westie, and killing monsters in computer games. In addition to spending time in Scotland, she has traveled in the US, Eu-rope, and the Pacific Rim. She now lives in Oregon.
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April 21, 2022
The Coffee Pot Book Club presents: A Ha’penny Will Do by Alison Huntingford,
Book Title: A Ha’penny Will Do
Author: Alison Huntingford
Publication Date: 31st January 2022
Publisher: Austin Macauley
Page Length: 368 Pages
Genre: Historical Fiction
A Ha’penny Will Do
By Alison Huntingford
Love, dreams and destitution.
Three members of one family are linked by their struggle to survive poverty and war at the turn of the century.
Kate, a homesick, lonely Irish immigrant, dreams of being a writer. After difficult times in Liverpool she comes to London looking for a better life. Hoping to escape from a life of domestic service into marriage and motherhood, she meets charming rogue William Duffield. Despite her worries about his uncertain temperament, she becomes involved with him. Will it be an escape or a prison?
Fred is a restless elder son, devoted to his mother yet locked in a tempestuous relationship with his father. War intervenes and he secretly signs up to serve abroad. Is his bad reputation deserved? What will become of him?
Joe, too young to sign up for WW1, is left to endure the hardships of war on the home front and deal with his own guilt at not being able to serve. He starts an innocent friendship with his sister-in-law which sustains him through hard times. Will he survive the bombs, the riots, the rationing and find true love in the end?
These are their intertwined and interlocking stories recreated through the medium of diaries, letters and personal recollections, based on the author’s family history covering the period of 1879 – 1920. The truth is never plain and rarely simple.
This novel is a fresh and compelling look at life for the working-class poor in England at the end of the Victorian era. Covering issues such as the struggle for home rule in Ireland, the hardships of domestic service, marital strife, the suffragettes and the horrors of World War 1 on the home front and abroad, this is a realistic and gripping tale which keeps the reader involved in their human plight all the way.
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Alison Huntingford has a degree in humanities with literature, and has always enjoyed reading, especially, the great writers of the 19th century. She is an only child of two only children and so has always felt a distinct lack of family. This has inspired her to research her family history and most of her writing is based on this. Her debut novel, The Glass Bulldog, was published in 2019, and was nominated for the Walter Scott Prize for historical fiction. This is her second full length novel, although, she has also written several short stories.
In her spare time, she enjoys spending time with her husband and their pets, listening to music, going to the cinema, and gardening. She lives in Devon, on the edge of Dartmoor.
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April 14, 2022
Coffee Pot Blog Tours present: When The Mermaid Sings By Helen Hollick
Book Title: When The Mermaid Sings
Series: The Sea Witch Voyages
Author: Helen Hollick
Publication Date: 21st June 2021
Publisher: Taw River Press
Page Length: 190 Pages
Genre: Historical/Nautical Fantasy
When The Mermaid Sings
(A prequel story to The Sea Witch Voyages)
By Helen Hollick
A prequel short read story to the Sea Witch Voyages of Captain Jesamiah Acorne
When the only choice is to run, where do you run to?
When the only sound is the song of the sea, do you listen?
Or do you drown in the embrace of a mermaid?
Throughout childhood, Jesamiah Mereno has suffered the bullying of his elder half-brother. Then, not quite fifteen years old, and on the day they bury their father, Jesamiah hits back. In consequence, he flees his Virginia home, changes his name to Jesamiah Acorne, and joins the crew of his father’s seafaring friend, Captain Malachias Taylor, aboard the privateer, Mermaid.
He makes enemies, sees the ghost of his father, wonders who is the Cornish girl he hears in his mind – and tries to avoid the beguiling lure of a sensuous mermaid...
An early coming-of-age tale of the young Jesamiah Acorne, set in the years before he be-comes a pirate and Captain of the Sea Witch.
Praise:
“Ms Hollick has skillfully picked up the threads that she alludes to in the main books and knitted them together to create a Jesamiah that we really didn't know.” Richard Tearle sen-ior reviewer, Discovering Diamonds
“Captain Jesamiah Acorne is as charming a scoundrel as a fictional pirate should be. A re-sourceful competitor to Captain Jack Sparrow!” Antoine Vanner author
“Helen Hollick has given us the answer to that intriguing question that Jesamiah fans have been aching for – how did he start his sea-going career as a pirate?” Alison Morton, author
“I really enjoyed the insight offered into Jesamiah's backstory, and found the depiction of our teenage hero very moving.” Anna Belfrage, author
“I loved this little addendum to the Jesamiah series. I always had a soft spot for the Lorelei stories and enjoyed that the author cleverly brought her over from the Rhine valley to fit into the story.” Amazon Reviewer
Trigger Warnings: Sexual content, adult language.
A brief bit about the Sea Witch Voyages:
I wrote the first Voyage (Sea Witch) back in 2005 after thoroughly enjoying the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Like most avid readers, however, I wanted more than just the movie, I wanted to read something that was as entertaining and as exciting. A nautical adventure with a charming rogue of a pirate captain, written for adults (with adult content) but with a dash of supernatural fantasy as well – elements of which had made that first movie such fun to watch. I found many nautical-based novels, but they were all ‘serious stuff’ – Patrick O’Brian, Alexander Kent, C. S. Forrester ... all good reads but without the fantasy fun, and barely a female character in sight. I simply could not find the book I wanted to read. So, I wrote my own.
The first Voyage led to more books in the series, and also generated several emails from fans who wanted to know how Jesamiah had become a pirate in the first place.
When the Mermaid Sings answers that question.
* * *
Cornwall, England 1710
Tiola heard her father shouting her name but ignored him. She would receive a whipping for not attending evening church, but there were more important things for her to be about this day. The young man needed her attention, for his ship, his life, was in danger. God would understand. Although her father would not.
Mama had said that the child was ill, was to remain abed, but Papa had gainsaid her, slammed into her room and demanded she rise and dress herself.
Tiola had looked at him, blank, pale-faced, unblinking.
~ Go away! ~ The words had been in her mind, not spoken aloud, but still he had turned around and gone away.
How did I do that? she wondered, but noted the doing as the door closed and his footsteps sounded on the wooden stairs as he descended.
He shouted again from the parlour, then she heard the front door of the house open and the bustle of them all leaving. The crunch of their feet on the gravel path outside. The house settled into silence, only Tompkin, the black and white cat, curled at the bottom of her bed purred in contentment.
Tiola smiled, returned her attention to the painting of the ship that hung on her wall. It was a brig under full sail, churning her way through a choppy sea, with scudding clouds racing across a blue, blue sky above her. But Tiola did not see the waves. Or the clouds or the sky, all she saw was a storm lashing rain and a wind howling its temper, and the black-haired young man struggling to stay alive.
“Keep safe,” she muttered, then sent the words to him through her mind.
~ Keep safe! ~
How I met Jesamiah Acorne (the tru-ish) story:
https://ofhistoryandkings.blogspot.com/p/how-i-met-jesamiah-acorne.html
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Available on #KindleUnlimited.
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First published in 1994, Helen became a USA Today Bestseller with her historical novel, The Forever Queen (titled A Hollow Crown in the UK) with the sequel, Harold the King (US: I Am The Chosen King) being novels that explore the events that led to the Battle of Hastings in 1066. Her Pendragon’s Banner Trilogy is a fifth-century version of the Arthuri-an legend, and she writes a nautical adventure/fantasy series, The Sea Witch Voyages. She is now branching out into the quick read novella, 'Cosy Mystery' genre with her new venture, the Jan Christopher Murder Mysteries, set in the 1970s, with the first in the series, A Mir-ror Murder incorporating her, often hilarious, memories of working as a library assistant.Her non-fiction books are Pirates: Truth and Tales and Life of A Smuggler. She lives in an eighteenth-century farmhouse in North Devon, runs Discovering Diamonds, a review blog for historical fiction, and occasionally gets time to write...
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April 12, 2022
The Coffee Pot Blog Tours present: Shake Loose the Border (Thunder on the Moor, Book 3) by Andrea Matthews
Book Title: Shake Loose the Border
Series: Thunder on the Moor, Book 3
Author: Andrea Matthews
Publication Date: 22nd November 2021
Publisher: Inez M. Foster
Page Length: 356 Pages
Genre: Historical Time Travel Romance
Shake Loose the Border
(Thunder on the Moor, Book 3)
By Andrea Matthews
With Will and Maggie’s wedding just a week away, the last thing they need to stumble upon is Johnnie Hetherington’s dead body tied to a tree, especially one that’s so close to their cottage. Recognizing it as a sure sign that Johnnie has betrayed the family once too often, Sergeant Richie Carnaby gathers Will and his family together for questioning, though it seems obvious only a fool would kill a man on his own land. Then who did murder the rogue, and why?
Feeling confident it wasn’t any of the Fosters, Richie allows Will and Maggie’s wedding to proceed, but the couple has barely exchanged vows when the Armstrongs attack in force. Geordie is determined to rescue his niece from the clutches of Will Foster, whether she wants to go or not. And if he happens to make her a widow in the process, so be it. Will senses the danger and implores Dylan to get Maggie away to safety, no matter where — or when — that may be.
Though Maggie protests, Will assures her he will follow as soon as he is able. Yet how can that be possible when Dylan whisks her back to the twentieth century? Sharing her fears about Will, and unable to forget his own love, Annie, Dylan attempts to return to the past one last time despite his growing concerns over the disintegrating amulet stone. But will he make it in time to rescue Will, or will the villainous Ian Rutherford, who has already killed in cold blood once, win the ultimate battle and see Will and Maggie separated forever?
Trigger Warnings: Sex and violence
Read an Excerpt
Johnnie Hetherington had spent the last few days skulking around the Foster peel, even going so far as to join them as they rode out with Richie Carnaby. It wasn’t that he was a particularly brave man, but with that crowd he felt safe enough, and he liked a good bit of Jedburgh justice as well as the next man. He even managed to pocket a shilling or two that conveniently dropped from one of the miscreant’s saddlebags. And why not? Lord knew Carnaby would never pay him for such service. It was hard enough squeezing a half crown out of the scoundrel when he had some vital information. But that was neither here nor there.
The real reason behind his sudden familial loyalty had to do with something else entirely. What he truly wanted, what he had been waiting for with bated breath, was an opportunity to step in and claim Maggie Armstrong for himself. He’d failed to stop the handfast, true enough, but that could be broken without too much effort on his part. In fact, when the young couple began to argue, he saw his prospects improve greatly. Then yesterday, Will had actually given both rings back to her. Johnnie thought sure if he bided his time, he could step in and console the poor lass. But it was not to be. Before he even had the chance to make his feelings known, they had reconciled, leaving him out in the cold once more.
To make matters worse, that fool Pete Hetherington had chosen that very moment to come riding from Otterburn to announce that Father Michael was in the area, and that had pretty well ended any hope he had. For the past two days, the entire household had been bustling about, like a bunch of bees around their hive, and here he sat, virtually ignored. There had to be a way to stop this wedding.
Grabbing a piece of bread, he slopped up another mouthful of Betty’s famous stew. Not bad, a bit heavy on the salt for his taste, but far better than anything he could make. He definitely needed to get himself another wife, for he was sick to death of making his own meals. Maggie would fill that role quite nicely.
Pouring himself another tankard of ale, he sat back and rested against the wall of the peel tower. Will and a few of the others were hanging garlands of rosemary and heather with dainty blue forget-me-nots and white fairy flax interspersed throughout. The dais was being set with crisp linen tablecloths and embroidered banners of blue, green, and gold. Johnnie laughed to himself. We’ll see how long it all lasts if the Armstrongs attack. Or more likely when!
The kernel of an idea formed in his head, nearly causing him to laugh out loud. Wouldn’t it be fortuitous if both Bonnie Will and Ian Rutherford met tragic ends in the midst of the fray? Such a devastating turn of events would leave Maggie vulnerable to his comforting embrace. After all, why shouldn’t he claim the Scottish wench for his own?
He scratched his head, contemplating the inevitable. Perhaps it wasn’t wise for him to be spending so much time at the Fosters, though. If he was still here when the Armstrongs did descend upon them, he’d be forced to fight—a prospect he found quite distasteful. On the other hand, if he wasn’t here, someone else might step in to console the grieving widow, and that was even less acceptable. What if he made a secret pact with the Armstrongs, one the Fosters knew nothing about, guaranteeing his safety? He could achieve his objective with the least amount of risk to himself. Slapping his knee, he drained the last dregs of ale from his cup and stood.
Only one way to guarantee the desired outcome. Head north and inform the Armstrongs of the upcoming nuptials. Surely they would be grateful for such information, and then after Ian had taken Will’s life, Johnnie could descend on the unsuspecting Ian, blame it on the Fosters, and step in to claim the wench for himself. Delighted at having concocted such a foolproof plan, he grabbed his cloak from the table and headed down the peel tower steps.
“Leaving us so soon, Johnnie O’Dell?” his cousin Duncan said. He put down the large barrel he was carrying and wiped an arm across his head.
Johnnie suppressed a sigh. His Foster kin were always questioning his motives, thinking themselves better than him.
“Much as I enjoy yer hospitality, Cousin, I do have to head home from time to time. After all, I’ve a son to check in on.”
Duncan narrowed his eyes. “I was of a mind ye fostered wee Eckie off to yer sister?”
“She cares for him, ’tis true, with me wife having passed on and all, but he’s still me bairn, make nae mistake.”
“I’m sure he is,” Duncan said, his lip turned up in an unmistakable snarl of disgust.
Johnnie fought the urge to challenge him on it. No, his cousin would get his comeuppance soon enough when the Armstrongs rode against him and his kin. “I’ve kye to see to as well.”
“’Tis yer sister what keeps them for ye too, does she no’?”
“Her man does, aye . . . for a price. The same as ye and yer brothers do for yer da, nae doubt.”
Duncan chuckled. “No’ quite the same, but ye take care now, Johnnie O’Dell. ’Tis a good ride ye’ve ahead of ye. If ye leave now, ye should make it by the twal hours.”
“I just might that,” Johnnie said, though it would be Eskdale he rode toward, not his pathetic little cottage.
Available on #KindleUnlimited.
Andrea Matthews is the pseudonym for Inez Foster, a historian and librarian who loves to read and write and search around for her roots, genealogical speaking. She has a BA in History and an MLS in Library Science, and enjoys the research almost as much as she does writing the story. In fact, many of her ideas come to her while doing casual research or digging into her family history. She is the author of the Thunder on the Moor series set on the 16th century Anglo-Scottish Border, and the Cross of Ciaran series, where a fifteen hundred year old Celt finds himself in the twentieth century. Andrea is a member of the Romance Writers of America, Long Island Romance Writers, and the Historical Novel Society.
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April 11, 2022
Coffee Pot Blog Tours present: The Brantford Wagers (The Brantford Series, Book 1) by Nadine Kampen
Book Title: The Brantford Wagers
Series: The Brantford Series, Book 1
Author: Nadine Kampen
Publication Date: 20th January 2022
Publisher: Birdsgate Publishing
Page Length: 358 Pages
Genre: Historical Fiction/Regency Romance
Follow the Tour : https://maryanneyarde.blogspot.com/2022/01/blog-tour-brantford-wagers-brantford.html
The Brantford Wagers
(The Brantford Series, Book 1)
By Nadine Kampen
Is Clara Vincent ready to risk it all for love?
Clara Vincent is “the artful dodger” when it comes to marriage, especially when her father is bent on match-making. Will her attitude change when she meets two eligible suitors and is drawn into the lives of intensely competitive families? Clara falls unexpectedly in love, but when fortunes are reversed and relationships up-ended, she needs to decide whether to trust James Brantford, who is seeking retribution, or accept the love of the man everyone else believes is her ideal match.
As the Brantford wagers unfold and lay bare the history of past relationships, will Clara be able to learn the truth and finally follow her heart?
Read an Excerpt from Chapter 13 - A Day of Triumph
Mrs Stancroft’s cheerful state of mind stemmed from her resolution to let Mr Brantford decide which of her two daughters he wished to court. ‘I will play no part in it,’ she said to her brother-in-law that morning. ‘If he chooses Catherine—which would be sensible, she being the eldest—and if, in turn, Catherine shows a preference for him, so be it. I will not a meddler be.’ On she went: ‘And, if Mr Ashton selects Isabelle—who is pretty enough to a man bent on courtship—neither will I quibble with that choice, either.’
She said as much to Clara, and finished off her speech, thus: ‘It is possible that Mr Langtree will still be at Brantford Hall. My dear, do your best to keep him away from Catherine, will you? In any case, he is clearly interested in you—oh, I know it is true, I saw it in a moment.’
On arrival at Brantford Hall, the family was met personally by Mr Brantford. Clara was the last to step down from the carriage. He greeted her quietly as he assisted her, expressing his hope that she had travelled comfortably.
‘Come, we have set out some refreshments for you in the salon,’ he told the group. ‘Afterwards, I will take those who wish to see the grounds on a tour out of doors.’
As they reached the manor, he said to them, ‘While you are taking a short rest, I will escort Clara to the stables so that she may check on her horse. I know you will understand that she has been anxious to learn how the mare is doing. We will not take long and will rejoin you shortly. For the moment, please enjoy some refreshments to tide you over until dinner. My man will escort you in. Miss Vincent, let us quickly see this horse of yours,’ he said. He smiled to the others, offered his arm to Clara, and led her away towards the stables.
‘I am glad to have a few minutes for conversation,’ he said. ‘I was rather spoiled in this regard, when we first met,’ he said with warmth, looking appreciatively at the lovely woman at his side. ‘Tell me, when you examined your trunk, did you find your belongings in good order? It must feel strange to know that people were handling everything.’
‘Yes, to be sure, but your decisions on what to leave, and what to bring back, made good sense,’ said Clara. ‘I cannot thank you enough. The trunk itself belonged to my mother, and some of the items inside are quite special to me. Did you incur much expense? I should wish to reimburse you, and I will need the address of the family to thank them.’
‘I rewarded the family on your behalf. Please, let that be my contribution. I am glad I could assist in this small way.’
They soon reached the stable, a long, low building, meticulously maintained, and filled with fine horses. Brantford’s groom, who had seen them arrive, joined them and was introduced. On entering the stable, not wanting Clara to sully her footwear and clothing, Brantford gently lifted her over bit of sand and hay so she could step along a length of planks he had lain down for her to walk on. Reaching the nearby box stall, he helped her step onto a low crate placed there for her use. Conscious of his thoughtfulness, and feeling her heart beat more quickly from his nearness, Clara raised her eyes to his in a shy gesture of appreciation. Brantford met and held her glance, and the warmth in his eyes made Clara feel light-headed.
Clara’s horse, drawn to their voices, turned and approached them. Clara, shifting her attention to the horse while she composed herself, could see at once that her mare was placing weight on its leg and moving without hindrance. She clasped her hands in relief.
‘She looks so healthy! Does she still limp, sir? I am not seeing it.’
‘We are working on that,’ said Brantford. ‘I do think she will be fully healed, in time. Since you are staying on in this district, I think you should leave her here for another month. It is no trouble—we have grown quite attached to her. I think we can get her mended well enough to travel, if you wish to send her back to your own stable. I would like to see her protected from any further mishap.’
‘Yes, that would be wise. If it is not too much of a burden for you, I would be happy for her to remain here.’ Clara looked relieved. Brantford patted his groom on the back in appreciation.
Clara struggled to hold back some unexpected tears. ‘I never dreamt she would be ridden in such a way. It was quite a shock. I cannot tell you what it means to me, to have you intervene on her behalf. Thank you.’
‘I trust you will want to come again to see her. She misses you,’ he said, watching the horse nuzzling up to Clara.
They visited at the stall for several minutes more before returning to the house. Once they reunited with everyone, Brantford invited his guests on a tour of the grounds. Aware of his duties as host, he walked along with Mrs Stancroft as he led the group and only glanced back in a general way, now and again, to check on everyone’s progress.
Clara found herself paired with Uncle Stancroft, and thought he looked even happier than Mrs Stancroft. He was, after all, a man with no opinions to check, no mind to change, no wishes to curb. He came to be satisfied. He wanted only food and wine to be perfectly happy, and if he knew anything at all about great houses, it was that the cupboards and cellars were filled with ample supplies.
Universal Link (Amazon): https://books2read.com/u/mddA55
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Brantford-Wagers-Nadine-Kampen-ebook/dp/B09G4PNK6Y
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Kobo:https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/the-brantford-wagers
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Nadine_Kampen_The_Brantford_Wagers?id=lfVMEAAAQBAJ&hl=en
Chapters-Indigo.ca:
In her début novel, The Brantford Wagers, Nadine Kampen draws on her passion for stories that bring a smile and warm the hearts of the reader. The author immerses the reader in the fictional world of traditional historical romance, set in the memorable Regency England period, sharing the hopes, schemes, and antics of her characters.
Prior to her career as an author, Nadine served as a regional marketing manager with an in-ternational consulting firm and as a communications and marketing director on university campuses. Earlier in her career, she worked in public relations and journalism, and was co-author and project lead for five non-fiction books comprising The Canadian Breast Cancer Series, published in 1989.
A resident of Winnipeg in Manitoba, Canada, Nadine loves relaxing with family and friends, reading and walking, playing tunes on her 1905 Bell piano, and gardening.
Social Media Links:
Website: www.nadinekampen.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/cookiebuxton
LinkedIn: www.linkedin.com/in/nadine-kampen-b6828765
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/Nadine-Kampen-and-The-Brantford-Wagers-107540071714536
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/nadinekampenauthor/?hl=en
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Nadine-Kampen/e/B09GS6975W
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/the-brantford-wagers-the-brantford-series-by-nadine-kampen
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/142891393-nadine-kampen
April 6, 2022
The Coffee Pot Blog Tours present: Secrets of Rosenli Manor by Heidi Eljarbo
Book Title: Secrets of Rosenli Manor
Series: (Mysteries of the Modern Ladies’ Society, Book 1)
Author: Heidi Eljarbo
Publication Date: 29th March 2022
Publisher: Independently Published
Page Length: 160 Pages
Genre: Historical Fiction / Historical Mystery
Secrets of Rosenli Manor
(Mysteries of the Modern Ladies’ Society, Book 1)
By Heidi Eljarbo
Betrayal and trust go hand in hand in the first book of Heidi Eljarbo’s new turn-of-the-century series.
It’s 1898, and Lilly has spent most of her life motherless and living with a father who never looks for a silver lining. When her great-aunt Agatha passes, Lilly’s existence takes a dras-tic turn. She packs her few belongings and moves into the old lady’s magnificent estate, Rosenli Manor.
In the days that follow, Lilly tries to understand who Agatha really was, and hidden secrets slowly rise to the surface. Her great-aunt’s glamorous legacy is not quite what Lilly had im-agined. She must trust in newly forged friendships, and to her surprise, she discovers what it means to truly fall in love. But not everyone is happy about the new mistress of Rosenli.
Intrigue, mystery, and a touch of romance in the Norwegian countryside fill the pages of Secrets of Rosenli Manor.
Read an Excerpt:
The gardens were quiet. The whispers of winter were fading away. No icicles pointing toward the frozen ground. No sparkling crystals in kaleidoscope patterns on blankets of white. The snowfall earlier had turned into sleet, and it appeared as if the promise of spring was slowly approaching. There was still no rustling of leaves in the breeze, but the barren branches would soon wake up. In a few days, the parkland would be filled with the cheerful sound of busy birds building nests. But at this moment, even the fountain was peacefully sleeping.
Just silence.
A plump bullfinch sat on the pale branch of a birch. His black cap made him look rather strict, but the cheerful red chest and cheeks brightened up the otherwise colorless landscape. The bird bobbed his head as she walked by, as if acknowledging her presence.
Lilly brushed the wet snow off a white-painted wooden bench by the fountain and sat down. What a lovely view. As a young girl, she’d probably never noticed. The road below wound across a sloping field toward the village. Smoke rose from the chimneys of neighboring houses, swirling upward to the already gray sky.
Did she belong here? The manor had been in the Strand family for several generations. Aunt Agatha was her kin, but Lilly knew nothing about the old lady’s past. Who was her husband? Were they happy here in the enormous house with a vast garden overlooking the village? Why did they not have any children?
Thoughts of how it must have been filled Lilly’s head. Not that she wanted to pry into someone else’s life, but she was curious. And now Aunt Agatha had bequeathed everything to her—a young woman at the beginning of her career as an accountant. Why? It was as if she stood on hallowed ground, not knowing the whole story, but with a strong desire to understand.
The last time Lilly was here, Mother and Aunt Agatha had sat on the bench while Lilly had played with a kitten. While the women discussed the fragrances of flowers and herbs, Lilly had rubbed her fingertips against the lavender plants with their sweet, delicious scent.
Lilly must have enjoyed listening to the ladies’ chatter about the garden. As an adult, she spent her weekends outside in the small backyard of her father’s house, arranging amicable groups of her favorite peonies in similar color schemes, rows of lilies in front of bushes of hydrangea, and fragrant sweet pea in pink and purple hues.
Every summer, Father complained about the abundance of blossoms. “What a waste. I have little room left to sit and read my newspaper.”
He wasn’t all gruff, and she hadn’t given up hope that his heart contained a hidden corner that took delight in the lovely things in life. Although, she had yet to see that sentiment surface.
Lilly closed her eyes and lingered a while longer in the memories of childhood. One day, a parcel had arrived at the end of summer. She must have been five years old and had stood by the kitchen table, watching her mother untie the cotton string and fold the brown paper aside.
Inside had been a small wooden box.
“Open it, Mother. Hurry.”
Mother had lifted the lid and had pulled out two linen sachets bound with ivory lace and ribbons. She’d held one of the pouches close to Lilly’s face. “A gift from your Aunt Agatha. Smell it. Isn’t it wonderful?”
“Can I hold one?” Lilly had placed the pouch under her nose and had let the scent take her away to fields of lavender, where she imagined herself running between rows of blossoming purple, through meadows of color and fragrance.
Mother had put the sachets in her armoire where the perfume lingered and seeped into her clothes.
Father had rolled his eyes. “Ridiculous. What do we need smelly pouches for? Why couldn’t that old woman give us a bag of gold instead?”
Bittersweet memories from that day, long in hibernation, now surfaced. Lilly wiped her wet cheeks and bent down, pretending to pick one of each of the beautiful flowers, carefully bunching them together, arranging the colors as she thought Aunt Agatha would have. Warm, rosy shades, and flourishing textures of tender softness.
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Heidi Eljarbo is the bestselling author of historical fiction and mysteries filled with coura-geous and good characters that are easy to love and others you don't want to go near.Heidi grew up in a home filled with books and artwork and she never truly imagined she would do anything other than write and paint. She studied art, languages, and history, all of which have come in handy when working as an author, magazine journalist, and painter.
After living in Canada, six US states, Japan, Switzerland, and Austria, Heidi now calls Nor-way home. She and her husband have a total of nine children, thirteen grandchildren—so far—in addition to a bouncy Wheaten Terrier.
Their favorite retreat is a mountain cabin, where they hike in the summertime and ski the vast, white terrain during winter. Heidi’s favorites are family, God's beautiful nature, and the word whimsical. Sign up for her newsletter at https://www.heidieljarbo.com/newsletter
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April 5, 2022
Coffee Pot Blog Tours present: Son of Anger (Ormstunga Saga, Book 1) by Donovan Cook
Book Title: Son of Anger
Series: (Ormstunga Saga, Book 1)
Author: Donovan Cook
Publication Date: 12th November 2020
Publisher: Independently Published
Page Length: 347 Pages
Genre: Viking Historical Fiction
Son of Anger
(Ormstunga Saga, Book 1)
By Donovan Cook
Ulf is like a storm, slowly building up its power, he grows more dangerous with each passing moment. And like all storms, he will eventually break. When he does, he will destroy everything in his path.
Ulf is one of a long line of famous Norse warriors. His ancestor Tyr was no ordinary man, but the Norse God of War. Ulf, however, knows nothing about being a warrior.
Everything changes when a stranger arrives on Ulf’s small farm in Vikenfjord. The only family he’s ever known are slaughtered and the one reminder of his father is stolen -- Ulf’s father’s sword, Ormstunga. Ulf’s destiny is decided.
Are the gods punishing him? All Ulf knows is that he has to avenge his family. He sets off on an adventure that will take him across oceans, into the eye of danger, on a quest to re-claim his family’s honour.
The gods are roused. One warrior can answer to them. The Son of Anger.
Available on #KindleUnlimited.
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Even as a young child, Donovan loved reading stories about Vikings and other medieval warriors fighting to defend their homeland or raiding in distant lands. He would often be found running around outside with nothing other than a wooden sword and his imagination. Now older, he spends his time writing about them. His novels come from his fascination with the Viking world and Norse Mythology and he hopes that you will enjoy exploring this world as much as he did writing about it.
Born in South Africa but raised in England, Donovan currently works as an English tutor and when he is not teaching or writing, he can be found reading, watching rugby, or working on DIY projects. Being born in South Africa, he is a massive Springboks fan and never misses a match.
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