Today I am delighted to have the blurb and a short excerpt (thanks to Love Books Group and Katherine Black) for you to whet your appetite on A Most Unusual Demise. An intriguing, humorous cosy crime book, available to buy and borrow now.
Blurb
A well-read old dear has an unhealthy interest in murder in this sharp, witty and refreshingly original cozy crime novel.
Retired librarian and bookshop owner May Morrigan lives in the affluent village of Blackheath with Fletcher, her best friend since they met decades ago, and May’s two dogs. What could be more normal? But May is not your average little old lady . . .
After an unpleasant church volunteer and an annoying local butcher meet their untimely ends, Fletcher and May team up to do some sleuthing. Soon, the elderly pair start working with a young journalist to investigate the case of a missing girl and its possible link to previous unsolved crimes. May finds this new project quite intriguing. She’s never met a murderer before—and now she just may get the chance, if they play their cards right . . .
Excerpt/Extract
Bundled up against the cold, May Morrigan stepped out onto Blackheath. The wind whipped
across the open space, ruffling her cap of white hair. She took a deep, cleansing breath. The
day was beautiful, frosty but bright. Once out on the heath, she raised her face to the blue
sky and allowed the gusts to blow away the cobwebs. She imagined them unspooling behind
her in long, silvery threads. With one arm hooked through the handle of her trusty Kelly
handbag, she set off towards the bookshop.
May had spent most of her life in Blackheath. As she crossed the heath and entered the
village, she nodded hello to familiar faces. A teacher from St Julian’s primary school stopped
to ask if May would be donating to the book drive again. Yes, of course she would. Jean
Drysdale was walking her dog, Tarquin. She waved and thanked May for the flowers sent to
Jean’s daughter, who had just had her first baby. Always a pleasure.
Betty Danvers, coming out of the bakery, asked if May would be at the church’s Epiphany
planning meeting that afternoon. As the two women paused to chat, Harriet Nibley pushed
past them in a huff, causing May to grasp the door frame for support. A spasm of sciatic pain
shot from hip to ankle. She turned to watch Harriet stalk up to the counter.
Yes, May would be at the meeting.
The bookshop was in darkness when she arrived, though it was a quarter past the official
opening. She wasn’t surprised. It was only the second day of January, and Bastian was
probably still recovering from New Year’s Eve. She collected the newspapers waiting on the
step, rummaged through her bag for the keys and opened the door. The bell overhead
Finding Ruby Draker By Marianne Scott Excerpt/Extract
Today I have an excerpt of finding Ruby Draker for you, courtesy of being on the Love Books Group blog tour and Marianne Scott. It certainly caught my attention and drew my eye in. First, check out the blurb and then onto the excerpt, of this suspense/thriller, which has intrigue and intensity.
Blurb
Kathleen Jones has lived a protected and typical suburban life, nothing unexpected in her carefully controlled and planned existence. She’s about to complete her college degree and is ready to start a successful career but after completing her last exam she comes home to find her world has been turned upside down. Her home has been torched and her parents and little brother killed. If that’s not bad enough, she is kidnapped and drugged unconscious by strangers posing as police officers. When she awakes she discovers that everything has changed – her face, her name, and everything she believed to be true. But things get worse. Hardly recovered from surgery, she is whisked away under the cover of darkness as more men storm the clinic with guns. It seems that the men who abducted her are not her greatest threat. Now on a private charter on its way to Nice, France, her abductors are calling her Ruby – Ruby Draker!
Now, onto the excerpt.
When I awoke, I could hear people moving around me, but I kept my eyes squeezed shut.
For a minute or two I listened to what was going on around me, but then I just had to see what was happening. I cracked open my eyes, but my vision was blurry, and I couldn’t make out much of anything except shapes and colors. All the people who floated in and out of this quiet place were dressed in white. A man with dark hair stood from his chair in the corner and leaned over. I knew right away it was him, from the fire. He tapped the IV pole to my side while a nurse covered me with another blanket and adjusted the pillow under my head.
In a few seconds, the white fog went black and I passed out again.
I have no idea how long I was like this; it could have been a day, a week, a month.
When I woke up again, my face was tightly bandaged and again everyone around was fuzzy and white. The bandage felt like a straitjacket, and my hand flew to it to pull it off. Someone saw I was conscious and came over to scoot me into a sitting position in some kind of high- backed chair and rested my head on a cushion.
Why was everything so white? My heart was like a rock, heavy in my chest. I didn’t feel anything, no pain, no fear, just like I’d been emptied out. I didn’t even know if I was breathing. I couldn’t move or talk or see much. My eyes and lips seared against the air.
Today I have a very special book that I can reveal 2 excerpts from. All profits of sale of this anthology – UNLOCKED will go to THE TRUSSELL TRUST. The TRUSSELL TRUST is a large food bank charity in the UK. Find out more about them in the link:The Trussell Trust. As you meander down you’ll discover the cover, the blurb and 2 extracts from the book.
We support a nationwide network of food banks and together we provide emergency food and support to people locked in poverty, and campaign for change to end the need for food banks in the UK.
In the UK, more than 14 million people are living in poverty – including 4.5 million children. We support more than 1,200 food bank centres in the UK to provide a minimum of three days’ nutritionally-balanced emergency food to people who have been referred in crisis, as well as support to help people resolve the crises they face. Between April 2019 and March 2020, food banks in our network provided a record 1.9 million food supplies to people in crisis, an 18% increase on the previous year and during the coronavirus pandemic food banks have seen need rise even further. You can find out more about the impact of our work during the pandemic in our latest report, available here.
We know it takes more than food to end hunger. That’s why we recently launched our five year strategic plan. We know our goal to end the need for food banks is ambitious, but by working Together for Change, we believe it is achievable.
Blurb
ALL PROFITS FROM UNLOCKED WILL BE DONATED TO THE TRUSSELL TRUST
From murder to magic, loss to love, Berlin to Bologna and everything in between, this brilliant anthology showcases 16 unique short stories from the D20 Authors, a best-selling group of writers whose debuts were published during the COVID 2020 lockdowns.
Meet the cleaner who won’t let anything stand between her and her job; the ocean diver with a mysterious mission; the pyromaniac driven by a painful compulsion; and the politician struggling to balance it all….
Compiled by best-selling author Philippa East, and covering everything from crime to romance, mystery to uplit, this multi-genre collection has a story for everyone. Contributors to UnLocked have been longlisted, shortlisted and winners of a variety of awards, including The Waterstones Children’s Book Prize, The McIlvanney Prize for Best Scottish Crime Book, The Guardian’s Not-The-Booker Prize, The People’s Book Prize for Fiction, and the CWA New Dagger Award for best debut of the year.
With this superb anthology, the D20 Authors are delighted to be raising funds for the Trussell Trust, a charity who supports a nationwide network of food banks, and together they provide emergency food and support to people facing hardship, and campaign to end the need for food banks in the UK.
Get to know some of the best fiction writers publishing today, support the Trussell Trust and treat yourself to some great entertainment by reading this exceptional collection.
Contributors
Debra Barnes Tom Benjamin Caroline Bishop Emma Christie
Catherine Cooper Polly Crosby Victoria Dowd Philippa East
Tim Ewins Gillian Harvey Nydia Hetherington Anna Jefferson
Penny Jenkins Louise Mumford Holly Race Rosie Walker
Here is the first of 2 excerpts.
THE CLEANER LOUISE MUMFORD
I love my job.
Noble profession, cleaning. You take the chaos and mess of people’s lives, the smears and stains and overflowing
bins, and you create order from it – you show them the gleam that lies underneath. You show them the potential.
Of course, then they mess it up again.
Some people might think this new job of mine weird, I guess. After all, I’m still working in the same building, on the
same floor – in fact, I can even see my old desk. Nine to five, five days a week, twenty years: Mr Dedicott’s Personal
Assistant. Sounds fancier than it was, but I didn’t mind that – I’m not fancy.
It was a big change, leaving. If I had my time again, would I have done anything different? Of course, yes. But things
are what they are. I can’t change them.
I’m here for a reason.
And it’s not because of my love for emptying bins.
We work the night shift, which suits me. I’m not so good in the day anymore; I feel a bit fuzzy around the edges,
floating from one place to another in a daze half the time. It’s taken me a while to settle in. I don’t mean in terms of
banter and swapping trashy gossip mags with the others, I mean the effort of it. It’s hard work. Hoovering, wiping,
lifting, moving, bleaching. The concentration. No wonder I’m a wreck in the daytime.
I always do my desk first. No, not my desk anymore, I have to remember that. His. They replaced me with a man.
Just a lad, I saw him the one time, skinny legs in those terrible tight suit trousers which young men wear nowadays,
the kind that look as if they cut off circulation to the brain. I’m sure he’s competent at his job.
But he’s not me.
And onto the second
THE REEF
EMMA CHRISTIE
Now, her breath was everything.
She pictured her lungs, fat with life. The muffled whisper of each inhale and exhale was amplified by the snorkel tube,
made her feel bigger than she was.
But more guilty.
She sighed then swam through the sound of it, repeating one phrase in her head.
Alan made me do this.
She headed back to the boat, grunting as she pulled herself onto the narrow metal steps hung over the side. She
wanted to reach for Alan’s chaffed hands, feel them grip her freezing, slippery fingers. She wanted him to haul her
over the side of the boat like a prize catch, to wrap her in an oversized towel and bring her the last of the whisky. Not
this. Never this.
She had one foot on the top rung when the boat lurched to her side, throwing her back into the water. She tried again,
fell again, then gave up. She’d swim for a while instead, watch life.
The sea was calm today. A few fish inspected the sandy floor, bellies flashing green and blue and silver when they
turned and caught the light. Some swam alone, hunting and hunted. But mostly they moved together, stayed low and
headed towards the reef. Towards Alan.
She started swimming after them, then hesitated and checked her watch. Grief clogged her throat. The worst part –
the watching part – wouldn’t be over yet. There would still be movement, traces of loss. No, she’d stay well away until
Alan was definitely gone. She turned around and kicked hard, one arm stretched ahead of her as she powered
through the water. She kept the other arm by her side, hand gripping the smooth handle of the harpoon gun.
We support a nationwide network of food banks and together we provide emergency food and support to people locked in poverty, and campaign for change to end the need for food banks in the UK.
In the UK, more than 14 million people are living in poverty – including 4.5 million children. We support more than 1,200 food bank centres in the UK to provide a minimum of three days’ nutritionally-balanced emergency food to people who have been referred in crisis, as well as support to help people resolve the crises they face. Between April 2019 and March 2020, food banks in our network provided a record 1.9 million food supplies to people in crisis, an 18% increase on the previous year and during the coronavirus pandemic food banks have seen need rise even further. You can find out more about the impact of our work during the pandemic in our latest report, available here.
We know it takes more than food to end hunger. That’s why we recently launched our five year strategic plan. We know our goal to end the need for food banks is ambitious, but by working Together for Change, we believe it is achievable.
Today I am pleased to be on the blog tour for – I Made It Out. I have a sneaky peek at the cover, blurb and an excerpt of the first chapter to share with you Thanks to Reading Between The Lines for inviting me. Take a look and also discover where you can buy the book and website and social media links.
Blurb
I Made It Out” details the raw, uncut, and honest life events of AvishaiEl. She is 32 years old and decided to write this book to help other people who are going through situations that they feel as though they can’t get out of. She affirms that you can get out of any situation and provides historical context in which she used her mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual capacities to face challenges head on. In order to maintain peace, one has to go through things in life to get there. She has gone through ups and downs. All readers from all walks of life will be able to relate to her shared experiences. On days where you feel low in life and on days where you feel high on life, opening this book and reading it will provide you with the tools you need to succeed no matter what. Some of the imagery is explicit to paint a visual picture for the reader.
If she could get through it you can. You can make it out
Chapter One
On rare occasions he would take me somewhere. The only time I remember him actually spending time with me at that age was when he went to get himself a sandwich filled with sprouts. He let me have a bite of his sandwich but didn’t get me a sand‐ wich. I always thought that was the weirdest thing to do. If I had a child, I would have also bought them something to eat. My father was a detached individual who acted impulsively. He was someone who would leave people, such as my mom and I, filled with unanswered questions. For example, him leaving was an impulsive action. There was no explanation. Another example is the time I asked my father about nationality. I asked my father, “What is my nationality?” His response, “We’re everything.” In my estimation his actions didn’t make sense to me. He wasn’t the type to admit to anything or take accountability. Saying, “Sorry” was not a part of his vocabulary and he always appeared aloof. This aloof, detached attitude that my father possessed put my life in danger. What was seen as ‘doing the right thing’ by my mom, because she followed a court order and didn’t want to keep her daughter away from her father, would later bring immense pain and sadness.
Every other Friday when I went to see my father at my paternal grandmother’s house, my mom would check in and my grandmother would make it seem as if she was there watching me at all times and would tell my mom that my father came over. My paternal grandmother would tell my mom I was doing fine. The reality was, unbeknown to my mom I wasn’t left with my father or his mother, I was left with my paternal grand‐ mother’s husband. He was an elderly man who I saw as a monster. That creature from hell looked like a classic Mr. Rogers to the average person. He would even smile at other people so you wouldn’t suspect the evil lurking underneath that mild exterior. He was very deceptive.
Every time I went over there, I was terrified, but I didn’t say a word to my mom. He abused me sexually and made me do despicable things against my will. He cussed often and called me a bitch. When I was left alone with him, he displayed different personalities. I saw a warped individual, not a person. I was only two-and-a-half to three-years old when I was violently abused.
No child should have to be brutalized. I remember wanting to run away from the house but he blocked me from leaving. I felt trapped. I can recall my mom dropping me off with another family member in the car. My paternal grandmother was outside to walk me in. I cried uncontrollably and was petrified to enter that house. The look on my mom’s face was one of uncertainty. She looked as though she didn’t want to leave me and kept asking me if I wanted to come with her. My maternal grandmother who was in the car with her said, “Just go ‘head,” an irritated edge to her voice. My paternal grandmother would say, “Let’s go in. She’s going to be fine. We’re going to go get breakfast.” This put my mother’s fears at ease. Yet, once again, she lied to my mom. She ended up leaving me with that monster again and then came the worst day of all.
Today on day 1 of this blog tour, I present an extract from The Farmhouse by L.B. Stimpson. Thanks to the author for providing the extract and Zooloo Blogtours for inviting me onto this.
Follow onto the Blurb and Extract and take a peek at a bit of this interesting, evocative, atmospheric book, that may well have your spines tingling, to see who lives in a house like this – an ageing, spooky farmhouse that just may put you in the mood early for Halloween!
Blurb
The house, for all of its solitude, seemed incredibly noisy
The Farmhouse, having stood against time and history for nearly 160 years in the Virginia countryside, was forgotten and abandoned until Kyle and Jenny Dowling moved in during the summer of 1972.
The Dowlings, married just a year, were struggling to repair their broken marriage. It was to be the perfect place, away from it all, to heal their relationship. Jenny would write and Kyle would tend to minor renovations. The rent was cheap.
The realtor warned them, however, against staying beyond the final days of fall.
Extract
Late Spring 1972
Jenny Dowling bit her lower lip in a failed attempt to keep her opinion to herself. She had promised her husband she would keep an open mind, but she didn’t expect the house to be so dilapidated. She swallowed her doubt and concern as they traveled down the gravel road, it was so worn and lonely and if she had to admit, the surrounding fields appeared frozen in time and she and Kyle were emerging through a portal, far from modern society, disturbing the past. Haunted. Yes, haunted was the perfect description. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the past, when wagons rolled and seclusion was necessary for survival at times.
“Oh, Kyle, you can’t be serious,” she finally blurted out as her eyes wandered along the overgrown driveway beyond the padlocked cattle guard gate which appeared to be holding in the decay spilling forth from the broken windows lining the front of the house. Empty, hollow eyes. Oh, he can’t be serious, but yet, he was.
Kyle reached over and grasped his wife’s hand. “Look, I know it doesn’t, well it might not be the secluded getaway you said you wanted, but it has some charm and it’s cheap and near enough to the city if I need to get back to the university, but I doubt that anyone will be calling. Besides, it has electricity and the realtor said she would cut us a break on the rent if we fixed up a few things.”
Jenny pulled her hand away and cranked open the window. The air was still. It was as though it was holding its breath lest a breeze break through the last shards of broken windows protecting the house against the elements. The house, this house, was exactly what Kyle had always wanted. Of course he would have chosen such a place–lonely and secluded.
Today I am kicking off the blog tour with an extract/excerpt of The Seamstress of Warsaw By Rebecca Mascull to whet your appetite and draw you in….
This is the latest book from the author who has also brought you – The Ironbridge Daughter and many more… You can find out more about her below…
Thanks to the publisher company lSpellbound Books for providing the extract/excerpt of the book.
Extract/Excerpt
WINTER 1920
He said to wear her best dress, the one with the poppies. Whatever could it be for? Perhaps they were going for lunch. That would be a miracle in the midst of these dark days, when he came home from his long walks with empty pockets and the scent of hard drink, without a word or even a smile. But she hoped for the miracle all the same. He waited by the door, shifting from foot to foot.
“Come on! Come on!” he laughed and took her hand. It was the first time he’d laughed in weeks.
They walked arm in arm down their street. Slowly, on dense snow. They turned one corner, crossed the road and stopped. There was a shop, in the window photographs of a baby, a young couple, a soldier.
“Darling, I‘ve decided to enlist.”
“No,” she said. “No!”
“I’m going away tomorrow.”
“Don’t leave me,” she said.
“Here. I want a photograph of you to take with me.”
He opened the shop door to an anteroom. The owner came through and she watched as they made arrangements. Her lover turned back to her and kissed her cheek, his touch like paper. She was led through to a small studio, shrouded in heavy curtains, a chair centrally placed. The photographer had a kindly face. He asked her to sit down. Her lover stood behind the camera, grinning.
“My Helena is a beauty, isn’t she? I want a close-up, just her face. Those eyes. One day, I will write a sonnet about them.”
She might be able to stop the tears coming, if she pressed her nails hard into her palms. Harder.
The photographer said, “A little smile, my dear?”
She was thinking of their room, how tiny it was, cluttered and dirty. How vast it would be tomorrow, when he had gone. His stories, his dreams, his plans for them: only now could she see them clearly for what they were. A handful of thistledown.
She heard them talking of the photograph, ready next week. She was to pick it up and pay. With what? Where would she find the money for milk, for bread?
At the door, he hugged her roughly.
“When the Russians are gone, I’ll come home to you. And one day, I will write an epic poem about it.”
They stepped out and stood a moment in the cold.
He said, “You must send the photograph on to me.”
He kissed her. Warm against the icy air. A taste of vodka.
“Where will you be?”
“I don’t know yet. As soon as I’m settled, I’ll write to you.”
They walked on through the snow. The east wind wailed through Warsaw.
About The Author
Rebecca Mascull is an author of historical novels. She also writes saga fiction under the pen-name of Mollie Walton.
Rebecca’s latest book under the Mascull name is coming on September 18th 2021, THE SEAMSTRESS OF WARSAW, the powerful tale of two people unknowingly connected to each other, caught up in the whirlwind of World War II, whose perilous journeys we follow from the Blitz to the Warsaw Ghetto and beyond, published by SpellBound.
Mollie Walton’s The Ironbridge Saga series is set in the dangerous world of the iron industry: THE DAUGHTERS OF IRONBRIDGE (2019). The second book in the trilogy is THE SECRETS OF IRONBRIDGE (2020), set in the brickyards of the 1850s. The third book is set in the coalmines and servants’ quarters of the 1870s: THE ORPHAN OF IRONBRIDGE (2021). All three are published by Bonnier Zaffre. Mollie’s next trilogy will be set in WW2 North Yorkshire and the first book of this saga will be out in March 2022, published by Welbeck.
Her first novel as Rebecca Mascull, THE VISITORS (2014) tells the story of Adeliza Golding, a deaf-blind child living on her father’s hop farm in Victorian Kent. Her second novel SONG OF THE SEA MAID (2015) is set in the C18th and concerns an orphan girl who becomes a scientist and makes a remarkable discovery. Her third novel, THE WILD AIR (2017) is about a shy Edwardian girl who learns to fly and becomes a celebrated aviatrix but the shadow of war is looming. All are published by Hodder & Stoughton.
She also completed the finishing chapters of her friend and fellow novelist Vanessa Lafaye’s final work, a novella called MISS MARLEY, a prequel to Dickens’s A CHRISTMAS CAROL. This novella is published by HarperCollins.
Rebecca has worked in education, has a Masters in Writing and lives by the sea in the east of England. She is also a Fellow of the Royal Literary Fund, based at the University of Lincoln.
Rebecca Mascull is an author of historical novels. She also writes saga fiction under the pen-name of 
Bookmarks and Stages by Lou 