Ailsa Abraham's Blog: Ailsa Abraham, page 10

Pay Attention, please.

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My latest novel, Attention to Death, has been gathering very good reviews from intelligent readers who took notice of the blurb and understood that the two investigators were gay.

I am thrilled and grateful that people with some brains have found it worth Five Stars. It makes up for the bigots who demanded free copies only to slate it for the sake of prejudice.

5.0 out of 5 stars Gripping to the end

5.0 out of 5 stars A compelling read

5.0 out of 5 stars Loved it

4.0 out of 5 stars Such an Apt Title

4.0 out of 5 stars Compelling and enjoyable read

And for the next two days it is FREE with Kindle Unlimited during the Crooked Cat Easter Sale. Grab your copy now if you haven’t already.

“”In Attention to Death, Ailsa Abraham pulls off something I wouldn’t have thought possible – a steamy romance with a twist of murder and a splash of social conscience. A remarkable book that will have you turning pages as quickly as you can to find out what happens next.” ~India Drummond, author of the Caledonia Fae series

Finding a murderer among a group of killers is not going to be easy for two Royal Army Military Police investigators, Captain Angus Simpson and Staff-Sergeant Rafael ‘Raff’ Landen, whose Christmas leave is cancelled for an investigation into a suspicious death on a base in Germany.

The case is further complicated by unhelpful senior officers who make pre-judgements on colour, creed, race and sexuality. Yet the insight of the investigators helps them uncover a sinister plot, although they too have something to hide: their own fledgling relationship.

Will Angus and Raff be able to solve the murder without giving away their secret?

The best and worst of human nature is represented in this story, which is why it is suggested for over 18s only.”

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MURDER ON THE RUN BY LESLEY COOKMAN

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Genre: Cosy Crime/Women’s Contemporary Fiction and Historical Crime

Release Date: December 1 st and January 31st

Publisher: Accent Press

The world of running is completely alien to Libby Sarjeant and her friend Fran Wolfe, but when Libby’s son Adam and Fran’s stepdaughter Sophie join the Nethergate Harriers, they have to take an interest. And when one of the runners goes missing in the middle of the Nethergate 5K, they take more than an interest! It’s not long before a body is found – and Libby and Fran are caught up in another investigation…

The seventeenth instalment in the hugely popular Libby Sarjeant murder mystery series.

BUY LINKS

AMAZON UK

AMAZON US

ABOUT LESLEY COOKMAN

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Lesley Cookman is a former model, actor, DJ and air stewardess, among other things. She has been writing for money for nearly 40 years (no, I know she doesn’t look old enough), her particular areas of interest being Theatre, Old Time Music Hall and Pantomime. She lives on the Kent Coast and has four grown up Performing Children and two cats.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LibbySarjeantMysteries/?fref=ts

Twitter: https://twitter.com/LesleyCookman

Blog: http://lesleycookman.blogspot.co.uk/search/label/news

Website: http://www.lesleycookman.co.uk

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GIVEAWAY

A copy of the book

 

REMEMBER NO MORE BY JAN NEWTON

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Genre: Crime

Series: A DS Kite Mystery # 1

Release Date: 16 March 2017

Publisher: Honno Press

A DS Kite novel – a city detective joins the mid-Wales force

bringing new insights and ruffling country feathers

Newly promoted DS Julie Kite is at a crossroads. Her husband’s desire for a different life takes her away from urban Manchester and its inner city problems to tranquil mid-Wales. It is to be a clean slate for them both. On her first day at Builth Wells police station, Julie is thrust unexpectedly into the centre of an investigation into a suspicious death in a remote farming community.

Back in Manchester, Stephen Collins is set free from HMP Strangeways. Bible in hand he makes his way to mid-Wales, the scene of the heinous crime for which he was imprisoned, in order to confront those who had a hand in his incarceration.

The twists and turns of the investigation into solicitor Gareth Watkin’s death force

DS Kite to confront her own demons as well as those of her rural community and, ultimately, to uncover the lengths to which we’ll go to protect our families…

 

BUY LINKS

http://www.honno.co.uk/dangos.php?ISBN=9781909983564

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Remember-No-More-Jan-Newton/dp/190998356X/

https://www.amazon.com/Remember-No-More-Jan-Newton/dp/190998356X/

https://wordery.com/remember-no-more-jan-newton-9781909983564

ABOUT JAN NEWTON

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Jan grew up in Manchester and Derbyshire, spending her formative years on the back of a pony, exploring the hills and moorland around her home.  She lived and worked in London and Buckinghamshire for 19 years until moving to Wales in 2005, where she learnt to speak fluent Welsh. Jan has won several writing competitions, including the Allen Raine Short Story competition, the WI Lady Denman Cup, and the Oriel Davies Gallery competition for nature-writing. She has been published in New Welsh Review.

A WORD FROM JAN NEWTON

I wrote my first novel when I was seven, all about the adventures of a little green one-legged spaceman, who crash-landed his tiny ship in my north Manchester suburb. We had plenty of adventures, Fred and me, filling fourteen Lancashire Education Committee exercise books and earning me two gold stars in the process. But when I was eight, a rotund Welsh Mountain Pony by the name of Pixie trotted into my life, and writing was immediately relegated in favour of all things equine.

It took more years than I care to admit for me to resume my writing career. In 2005 we moved to gloriously inspiring mid Wales. In 2009 I stumbled across an Open University creative writing module and the rest, as they say, is history. After completing my OU degree, I fulfilled a lifetime ambition and enrolled on an MA course at Swansea University. The whole experience was magical. It was like being taken by the hand and led back to a place where my imagination could run riot.

I began by writing short stories, which I love, but I always feel disappointed when I have to say goodbye to my characters so soon, and so the next challenge was to attempt a novel. It’s been a fantastic experience, from its shaky start in a brand new exercise book, but now, finally, I have my second novel. I still have a horse – this one’s been with me for over twenty years – but these days I seem to be able to allow the two obsessions – books and horses – to run side by side.

Twitter: @janmaesygroes

Blog: https://jannewton.wordpress.com

Website: www.jannewton.net

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GIVEAWAY

 

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/4be03017222/ ?

TANGO

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There’s passion on the Dance Floor

On return from a trip around the world, TV presenter, Ava Whittaker, has a baby by Matthias de Romero, Argentine Tango champion, hacienda owner, and the man she loves. The problem? He doesn’t know.

Fast forward two years, and Ava reluctantly agrees to be a contestant on a new dance show on TV, but to her shock, Matthias – the man she never expected to see again – is one of the judges.

Matthias de Romero is leaving his beloved stallions in Argentina to assuage his pride. Two years previously, the one woman he thought he could care for walked out on him after just one glorious night. He arrives in London ready for revenge.

Will Ava’s secret cause their intense feelings to burn out, or fan further the flames of love?

Buy here!

First line:

“Ava, wait until you hear what I’ve got for you… The pilot of a new dance show, To Dance or Not to Dance.”  

Ava Whittaker choked on her cup of tea, dropping the phone in her fluster. Her agent must have gone mad if she thought this totally preposterous idea was anything but. She picked the phone back up and caught it between her ear and shoulder to clear away the lunch dishes.  

“Absolutely not. Sorry, Caroline, I don’t dance.” 

So what does she do? What would you do? Ava is a single mum on maternity leave from her job as breakfast television presenter…she has been out of the spot light for nearly three years, travelling for the first and oh…guess you need to buy the book to see what happens. Then again, my favourite passage might give you a hint:

“Ah, good.” Daniel raised his voice and held his hand up to beckon someone over. “Matt managed to make it. We’re over here, Matt.”

Ava shook, the bubbly in her glass held halfway to her mouth mimicking the tremors running through her. For pity’s sake, get a grip. A tingling sensation accosted the base of her spine. Matthias had no reason to be in London to judge a dancing competition.

But he was a dancer…

She grimaced to herself, making a mental note to get out more. Jeez, the first time she left the house and look what happened, imagining every man was Matthias. Perhaps her ability to socialise had been stunted from the time spent in the safety of her own home. Maybe her brain was a stuck record. Oh, who knew…

Ava stepped back from the circle to allow space for the newcomer, and maintained a tighter grip on her shaking glass. Her heart hammered as though someone had put it on loudspeaker. Keeping her eyes downcast, she felt a presence loom closer. Apprehension squeezed her heart. She drew a shuddering breath, a breath which told her all she needed to know. The tantalising smell of dark amber and spices sent her nerves sky-high. Daunted, she closed her eyes to the flickering images of her and Matthias in the firelight, until she summoned the courage to open and take him in.

Wide shoulders encased in a white silk shirt, opened at the neck. The sleeves, rolled to his biceps, enhanced the muscles defined beneath the sheer material. Black, fine wool trousers hugged a tapered waist, and while the light silk of his shirt did nothing to disguise the six-pack, the thin fabric of his trousers showcased the powerful thighs honed by years of breaking horses.

Shivers raced up and down her body, and she fought against leaning closer to him.

The first time she met him, she’d been in a heap at his feet, having just fallen off a horse on his ranch. Her weakened legs now threatened to put her in the same position once more. Swallowing hard, she summoned her courage and raised her chin.

Glacier eyes met hers. The gold flecks hadn’t been imagined, but the temper crackling from the steady green gaze made her jump, spilling champagne. The last time she’d looked into his eyes, they had held nothing but passion; she had been the most beautiful girl in the world. That memory slipped away shyly under a new contemptuous glare.

Matthias de Romero was in town.

There is a lot of me in Ava, I travelled the world on my own but no, didn’t make passionate love with a hot Argentine rancher deep in the Andes. But falling in love when I travelled was something I was so conscious not to do—for the very reason that Ava leaves in the first place. Love across continents is no easy thing, and I would’ve done the same as she.

You can generally find Cait when she’s not in her writing cave or hanging around her favourite spots in nature somewhere on the internet:[image error]

Cait’s Place (blog)

Facebook

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Buy link for Tango

GRASS SHOOTS BY JANE BWYE

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Here comes Jane on the magic carpet dropping me down some lovely pictures and info about her new book launch. 

Ailsa – it’s me again. Hello Jane, got time for a quick freshly brewed coffee? Lily is saving you a biscuit but I’ve got some pastries too!

I trust you’ve recovered from your book launch last week, and are ready to re-enter the fray when mine hits the market on Thursday 30th March. Yes, fine thanks and raring to get going on your launch. 

GRASS SHOOTS is the sequel to “Breath of Africa.” It is a tender inter-racial love triangle which concludes the saga of Caroline’s and Charles’s families.

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They climb an erupting volcano, Ol Donyo L’Engai (“The mountain of the gods”), on the Kenya / Tanzania border.

[image error]They explore archaeological sites along the coast, and go on safari in Kenya’s exotic game reserves.

The story pivots round the devastation in a highland village caused by violence after the elections of 2007. It touches upon present-day problems with foreign aid, which is beset by politics and corruption. It explores the possibility of alternative ways to help themselves out of the morass, including input from the grass roots – ordinary villagers – and a burgeoning Kenyan middle class.

The name of my fictitious charity, which is founded in the United Kingdom, is Grass Shoots; and a significant part of the action takes place in the make-believe highland village of Amayoni, which – in Swahili – means birds.

There’s not so much magic and superstition this time around, but the “bush telegraph” works with astonishing precision, and there is still the mystery of the ancestral cave, which finally reveals its secret.

[image error]Jane lived in Kenya for over half a century, where she brought up her large family. An intermittent freelance journalist and business owner, she has written a cookbook, Museum Mixtures (1989) in aid of the National Museums of Kenya, and a History of her church in Eastbourne (2013).

Her first novel, Breath of Africa (2013) was nominated for the Guardian First Book Award. It draws on her experiences growing up in the country she still calls her home. Grass Shoots, the sequel, completes a family saga through to modern day Kenya. The novella, I Lift Up My Eyes, (2015) is set in Sussex.

A world traveller, Jane has bought a bird book in every country she visited. Now living in the UK, she is a business mentor and dressage judge, while indulging her love for choral singing, watching tennis, and playing bridge.

Link’d In: http://www.linkedin.com/in/jane-bwye-9866041b/

Facebook: JLBwye

Amazon Author Profile.co.uk

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Possessions lessons

[image error]Some of you may have remarked that my life has been somewhat lively since last August when I celebrated my Croning. Things are changing and the only reason for change is: lessons to be learned.

You may remember that my old pent made it known that it needed to be elsewhere, around the time that a dear friend wanted to be initiated. Perfect! They found each other just when I was required to change for another symbol.

I only realized tonight that most of my everyday jewelry had gone missing in the hospital. I don’t mind. I am not very attached to possessions. They are like people. They come into one’s life for a reason a season or a lifetime and very few are for life. They have been stolen? Well, perhaps they will find their way to someone who needs but can’t afford them. I hope so..

My third degree pent which came back to me for my Croning? Well, with the news about my health, I need stronger and more wild protection. Father-love rather than mother-love – I had already ordered a Cernunnos head pendant [image error]which would be more suitable – the Lord of the Wild Places, Protector of the Animals will sit above my poorly heart to shield it. I’ve worn a pent for over twenty years, in my older age maybe I need the more original symbols.

Twenty years ago, Badger put a ring on my finger to symbolise our love. He isn’t sad that it has gone. I simply brought out my box of ritual rings and asked him to choose one that would now represent our union. Very wisely, he chose a large Alexandrite which used to belong to my Aunt Helen, no mean witch herself, which came through my [image error]mother to me. It is the same colour as the amethyst engagement ring which, in our usual arse-about-face-style, he bought me a year after marriage. We went on honeymoon before the wedding too! So finally, our collaboration will be shown by a mixture of colour and hereditary which has no more meaning than my original afterthought engagement ring.

Things mean what we chose to make them mean. A soft toy can be more meaningful to a couple than a costly jewel, depending on its significance in their life together.

I adore my funny little ex-postal van. It isn’t a sports’ car, fast or flashy but it is an ideal teddy-mobile and suits me [image error]down to the ground. A funny little two-person plus animals vehicle that takes me where I want to go, comfy and fitting my size and style. The only other vehicle I have had which was more apt was my 2CV – a mobile teddy-bears’ picnic mobile. Both can be used for shopping or impromptu camping.

[image error]I had one of those and it is gone – Custard is his perfect replacement. Feelings and people matter while things don’t unless they represent those feelings and people who are gone for good. Lesson learned.

 

MINE!

[image error]It was a strange picture outside the modern University Hospital’s main doors when an emergency vehicle arrived in the middle of the night, hotly pursued by an obscure figure in black robes on a white horse. Seeing the signs in French, an observer might have been surprised to hear the shroud-wearer talking English to a shadow in a pointy hat, stout shoes, stripey stockings and shapeless female garb.

“WHAT ARE YOU UP TO, NANNY?”

“Sign must have slipped. Was only off on my travels. Sorry.”

“MIND BINKY FOR ME AND I WILL SEE IF I CAN GET YOU OUT OF THIS!” The words were clipped.

In the intensive care unit, the older woman in the black garb appeared to be trying to die. Despite the best efforts of the young doctor in charge, her heart kept stopping. Seven times the skeletal figure shouted “NO” and grabbed her shoulders while the medical staff applied electrical shocks to her chest. Her body folded upwards with an audible “oof” sound while bony fingers slapped at her face.

A large gentleman in an old-fashioned British bobby’s uniform appeared at her feet and began to argue with her.

“No, go back, Button. It’s not your time. Look, Titch isn’t here. If he were you’d know it was time to leave.”

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Blue lights glowed in the eye sockets under the cowl and a voice like animated rust ground out “THANK YOU, CHIEF INSPECTOR, I THINK I CAN MANAGE HERE.” A sand timer was waved under the policeman’s nose.

A bony forefinger tapped on her temple.

“NANNY AB IT IS NOT YOUR TIME AND I WON’T TAKE YOU. GET BACK IN YOUR BODY AND PUT SOME EFFORT INTO IT!” If you think that real fingers clicking sound sharp, try it with pure bone. It is a sound of complete irritation.

The beleaguered physician applied the electricity again and her body bounced on the table.  A male nurse appeared at his elbow.

“Will she live?”

“I think so but every shock weakens her. She’ll feel like shit on a stick for a good while after.”

The nurse twiddled with her toes affectionately. “Poor soul, might be better if she went now.”

“MESHUGGAH! SUDDENLY EVERYONE IS AN EXPERT ALREADY!” The hooded figure’s impatience was boiling over. “TITCH! HERE BOY!” A very large black Spanish Hunting Hound appeared in the room and popped his paws up on the trolley, licking at the old woman’s face.

Although the humans couldn’t hear, the dog spoke quite clearly to the witch and the unwilling body collector.

[image error]“Told you, Mum. When I said I was going to go Rainbow, I promised I’d come back for you when it was your time so we could walk there together. Now it isn’t your time. Look! I got no lead on!”

The doctor and male nurse gave a last look at their patient and decided to go for coffee.

“She can’t take any more re-animation. If it stops again, we’ll have to leave it.” The young doctor sighed.

With a final prod at her chest, the skeletal figure turned and called the dog to him.

“BEHAVE, NANNY AB. YOU ARE GOING HOME. GOT NO ROOM FOR YOU TODAY.”

The shape who had been holding his horse slipped back into the room and settled comfortably back into the body on the trolley.

“Nap time?”

“YES, NANNY, NAP TIME BUT THAT’S ALL.”

***

At that point, Nanny Ab’s faithful partner was driving through the night. A hare appeared on the side of the road, staring at him fixedly. He [image error]understood. This was a blessing. Nanny was going to live.

 

No, really?

I have a problem. I want to write my memoirs but I am such a strange character that if you put me in a book, I’d be overdrawn.

Thing is, y’ see, that I do things that “normal” people don’t. Ask a usual Joe if he wants to go up in a helicopter and “have a got at driving” and you’ll get “NO thanks!” I was in the fortunate position of being offered various aircraft to drive for fun and having merely to say yes or no. That, in itself, is unusual.

It is fortunate that I don’t like writing in the first person. I find it easier pretending I’m writing about a pretend “third person”. I have that lady in Nanny Ab, my alter-ego. She has developed since I wrote an autobiographical novel where I wanted to be “not me”. She has now become my witch-mentor and 350-yr old spirit guide.

All my life I have been in the wonderful position of being in the right place at the right time to agree to do fun things.

However, to write memoirs, I need a reliable memory (in short supply at the moment). It’s not as bad as it could be. I can still trace the railway map across my body and name each station of the operation, as I had to recently when Dr. Incredible seemed unable to tell a colon ectomy scar from a hysterectomy. Clue – one is digestion the other is reproductive.

We joke that more of me is missing than is left. To be honest, I don’t think about it!

I’m back…

[image error]Hello Gang.

Here I am back from my usual three-year drama-trauma hospitalization. Neither I nor the specialists have any idea how or why it happened but I suddenly had a “cardiac incident” which isn’t a heart attack but rather unpleasant. My blood pressure and pulse went through the roof causing oxygen deficiency in my brain, which, you may remember is in a fragile state anyway. You have probably heard of these because the actress Carrie Fisher, of Star Wars Fame, suffered one on an aircraft just before dying of a more serious heart attack.

I was rushed to intensive care where I stayed for two days going in and out of consciousness when not throwing my guts up. I think my heart tried to stop once because I remember being woken from a near-coma by what felt like two large men kicking me in the chest – that was the electric shock treatment. The red marks are going to take as long to fade as the innumerable bruises from where I was punctured for drips, canulae etc.

On day three I was moved to the cardiology unit. As Badger had been sent home under instructions to take all my stuff with him, I had no clothes, money, phone or any other possessions so I couldn’t arrange for the telephone by my bed to be switched on, buy a cup of coffee, etc. Me??? Three days without coffee!

The situation got worse today when I was initially told to inform my husband to pick me up at 7pm to take me home. The very young doctor then came back and told me they needed the bed so they would be calling me a taxi. I wasn’t very keen on travelling home in a surgical gown with no shoes so I phoned him again to ask him nicely if he could drop everything and come NOW. He very kindly agreed but the route to that hospital can take two hours on a bad day.

I did a Nanny Ab and lost it when Mr Newly-Qualified and Slightly Lower than God came back and said – you know you need an operation? Well as you are here, we’ll keep you in and do it tomorrow. NO. You won’t. I’ve already disrupted my partner’s day twice today on your instructions and I’m not doing it again.

Oh, he said, there is a risk if you don’t have the heart ablation . Yes, I agreed but it is nothing to the risk of telling my Old Feller that he has dropped everything and driven for four hours for no good reason because you have changed your mind. You face him and tell him if you feel brave but I’ve done my attempt at death for this week, ta muchly. I’ll take my chances with the heart condition and you can call me back for the op later, as you originally suggested.

Of course, when Badger did arrive, Young and Useless kept us waiting for the papers we needed so he had both of us to face so he came in with a more senior doctor to hide behind. Most of my family and a lot of my good friends are medical bods and I don’t subscribe to this “Kindly call me God” attitude – you are a mechanic who mends human beings, nothing more, nothing less. And don’t talk down to Nanny Ab or you will get told what she eats for breakfast – usually overconfident young men.

So I’m home now and thanks to everyone who sent good wishes. I’ll rest up for a day or so and go to see my dear Seb, the GP in whom I have far more confidence than the cardiologist. If he says the operation to kickstart my heart with electrics from the inside is necessary, I’ll do it.

I’m also going to be on thyroid pills as this incident could be down to hypothyroid. Eh well – the brain is going and the heart is in the same Trades’Union so what can we expect?

I’m still here and still smiling. Tell you what, though – if you are planning on going, don’t choose a heart problem, they bloody hurt! More soon xxxx

 

ONE DARK LIE BY CLARE CHASE

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Genre: Mystery

Release Date: 12 December 2016

Series: London & Cambridge Mysteries #3)

Publisher: Choc Lit Ltd (Death by Choc Lit imprint)

The truth can hurt, and sometimes it leads to murder …

After becoming embroiled in a murder investigation, Nate Bastable and Ruby Fawcett have decided to opt for the quiet life. But crime has a habit of following them around.

When her work dries up, Ruby finds herself accepting a job researching and writing about Diana Patrick-John, a colourful and enigmatic Cambridge academic. Simple enough. But then there’s the small fact that Diana was found dead in suspicious circumstances in her home – the very place where Ruby has now been invited to stay.

As she begins to uncover Diana’s secret life, Ruby’s sleuthing instinct kicks in, leaving her open to danger and retribution. But can she rely on Nate to support her? Especially when his behaviour has become increasingly distant and strange, almost as though he had something to hide …

BUY LINKS

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NOOK Book

ABOUT CLARE CHASE

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Clare Chase writes mysteries set in London and Cambridge featuring crime-solving couples. She fell in love with the capital as a student, living in the rather cushy surroundings of Hampstead in what was then a campus college of London University. (It’s currently being turned into posh flats …)

After graduating in English Literature, she moved to Cambridge and has lived there ever since. She’s fascinated by the city’s contrasts and contradictions, which feed into her writing. She’s worked in diverse settings – from the 800-year-old University to one of the local prisons – and lived everywhere from the house of Lord to a slug-infested flat. The terrace she now occupies presents a good happy medium.

As well as writing, Clare loves family time, art and architecture, cooking, and of course, reading other people’s books.

She lives with her husband and teenage children, and currently works at the Royal Society of Chemistry.

One Dark Lie is her third novel with Choc Lit. Previous titles are You Think You Know Me and A Stranger’s House.

Facebook: www.facebook.com/ClareChaseAuthor

Twitter: www.twitter.com/ClareChase_

Goodreads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/10204574.Clare_Chase?from_search=true

Blog: https://clarechase.com/blog/

Website: www.clarechase.com

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GIVEAWAY!

A fantastic prize going to one winner!!!

paperback copy of A Stranger’s House (the first Ruby Fawcett and Nate Bastable Cambridge mystery),
a sweet treat from Hotel Chocolat and
a Cambridge key ring.

 

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/4be03017220/ ?