Beware the Midnight Train - it's steaming into the station
★ Time travel? Ever done that? Of course not.
★ Seen a ghost? Well I haven’t.
★ Like ghost stories? I didn’t. Charles Dickens’ ‘A Christmas Carol’ is the exception and the only one I’ve read – as far as I remember.
So why did I write this one? Like all the other books I’ve written, it took shape in my mind and then wouldn’t shut up until I started telling the tale. The fact that I remember practically everything that happened helped shape it.
BLURB – If you were offered a dream cottage in an English country village and it was dirt cheap, would you jump in without viewing it? Perhaps you would if you had walked out on a no-good two-timing whatsit and had nowhere else to go? Even the neighbours are great, bit strange perhaps. And the dishy local vicar declares himself willing to help day or night. Night? And what’s this talk about a mysterious Midnight Train…are you sure you’re doing the right thing?
It's the 1970s and Ellie attempts to make a new life for herself, ignoring the gossip about ghosts and disappearing people. Boring? She’ll never be called that again and I think you’ll agree with her.
From an award winning, Amazon #1 Time Travel Romance author comes this treat for the imagination – based on truth. Yes, really. Go on, travel in style on the Midnight Train and see where it takes you.
Here’s a short excerpt:
From the outside Eleanor saw no discernible reason why Flint Cottage should be dirt cheap to rent. Roses climbed around the porch, tubs of colourful flowers adorned each corner and the symmetry was perfect including the slightly unusual feature of two front doors, both in need of a coat of paint. Either side of the cottage were two small gardens, fenced off from the lane. Eleanor put down her suitcase – why didn’t these things have wheels – and gazed at the cottage. A plaque above the doors announced it had been here since 1832. Finally, she smiled for the first time in weeks. “See if I care!” she announced. To be dumped and told she was boring was bad enough but to be replaced by a skinny, tarty, flirty… “Stop it!” She looked over her shoulder, nobody had heard, then glanced to her left where a row of Victorian cottages with neat fenced gardens stretched towards the steep grassy bank of the railway line. It’s all perfect, even close to the station to catch the train for London. “Home, sweet home,” she whispered as she picked up the suitcase and went towards her door. Hers, and hers alone.
Here’s another quotation from Beware the Midnight Train:
‘Training him to be normal is more difficult than teaching a hippopotamus to fly.’
Who could this refer to? I’ll give you a clue (which you probably won’t need once you start reading). A wife says it about…
Not long to go now.
★ Seen a ghost? Well I haven’t.
★ Like ghost stories? I didn’t. Charles Dickens’ ‘A Christmas Carol’ is the exception and the only one I’ve read – as far as I remember.
So why did I write this one? Like all the other books I’ve written, it took shape in my mind and then wouldn’t shut up until I started telling the tale. The fact that I remember practically everything that happened helped shape it.
BLURB – If you were offered a dream cottage in an English country village and it was dirt cheap, would you jump in without viewing it? Perhaps you would if you had walked out on a no-good two-timing whatsit and had nowhere else to go? Even the neighbours are great, bit strange perhaps. And the dishy local vicar declares himself willing to help day or night. Night? And what’s this talk about a mysterious Midnight Train…are you sure you’re doing the right thing?
It's the 1970s and Ellie attempts to make a new life for herself, ignoring the gossip about ghosts and disappearing people. Boring? She’ll never be called that again and I think you’ll agree with her.
From an award winning, Amazon #1 Time Travel Romance author comes this treat for the imagination – based on truth. Yes, really. Go on, travel in style on the Midnight Train and see where it takes you.
Here’s a short excerpt:
From the outside Eleanor saw no discernible reason why Flint Cottage should be dirt cheap to rent. Roses climbed around the porch, tubs of colourful flowers adorned each corner and the symmetry was perfect including the slightly unusual feature of two front doors, both in need of a coat of paint. Either side of the cottage were two small gardens, fenced off from the lane. Eleanor put down her suitcase – why didn’t these things have wheels – and gazed at the cottage. A plaque above the doors announced it had been here since 1832. Finally, she smiled for the first time in weeks. “See if I care!” she announced. To be dumped and told she was boring was bad enough but to be replaced by a skinny, tarty, flirty… “Stop it!” She looked over her shoulder, nobody had heard, then glanced to her left where a row of Victorian cottages with neat fenced gardens stretched towards the steep grassy bank of the railway line. It’s all perfect, even close to the station to catch the train for London. “Home, sweet home,” she whispered as she picked up the suitcase and went towards her door. Hers, and hers alone.
Here’s another quotation from Beware the Midnight Train:
‘Training him to be normal is more difficult than teaching a hippopotamus to fly.’
Who could this refer to? I’ll give you a clue (which you probably won’t need once you start reading). A wife says it about…
Not long to go now.
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