Candy Canes and Buckets of Blood @HeideGoody @IainMGrant #Extract #LoveBooksTours #Christmas #BlogTour #XmasReads #XmasGifts

Candy Canes and Buckets of Blood
By Heide Goody and Iain M. Grant

Thanks to Love Books for inviting me to the blog tour of Candy Canes and Buckets of Blood by Heide Goody and Iain Grant. It certainly seems to be a very different sort of book for Christmas, so I am pleased to be hosting an extract from it today, especially since it is freezing and all wintry where I live and is the 1st December today.

About the Authors

Heide lives in North Warwickshire with her husband and a fluctuating mix of offspring and animals. Iain lives in South Birmingham with his wife and a fluctuating mix of offspring and animals. They aren’t sure how many novels they’ve written together since 2011 but it’s a surprisingly large number.

 

Elf Story authors Iain and Heide by Pete C b+w

Blurb

Christmas is a time for families to come together.

Guin Roberts can’t think of anything worse than visiting a Christmas market with her new family. Guin is perfectly happy with own company and doesn’t want that disrupted by her wisecracking stepbrother and his touchy-feel mum.

Their Christmas celebrations are invaded by a sleigh full of murderous elves. And it doesn’t matter if they’ve been naughty or nice —these elves are out for blood.

Can the family band together to survive the night? Or will Santa’s little helpers make mincemeat of them all?

Elf Story cover

Extract

“Cuckoo clocks!” said Esther, arms spread.

“So, I see,” said Dave.

They pressed forward under the shallow eaves of the stall to avoid the briskly falling snow. The side walls and back of the stall were crowded with intricately carved clocks — chalet house shapes, covered with carved trees and fruits and animals, pine cone weights dangling on long chains beneath. On tiny balconies and in tiny doorways, varnished figures stood, some fixed, some poised to spring out at the chiming of the hour.

“I don’t like them,” said Dave.

“Why not?” said Esther.

“I don’t know. They always look … sinister to me.”

She looked up at him and smiled.

He kissed her on the forehead. “I look at them and all that super detailed carving and I think ‘that’s what happens when you’re cooped up all winter with snow piled outside your door and nowhere to go.’”

“Really?”

“Cabin fever as an art form.”

She shrugged. “I guess people did need something to keep them occupied through the winter months.”

He looked back the way they’d come. “They’ll be all right together?”

“Newton will keep an eye on her.”

“I’m more concerned about him,” said Dave. “No, I meant long term. Them. Us. A new life.”

Esther gave him a reassuring hug. “Taking it slow. Let’s see how Christmas goes, all four of us at your place. And if that works out…”

“Oh, crap.”

She pulled away. “You don’t want it to work out?”

Dave patted his coat pockets before putting a hand in each.

“What?” said Esther.

“Keys. Car keys.”

He took out his wallet to check the inside pocket. He looked inside the carrier bag of mulled wine.

“When did you last have them?” asked Esther.

“Definitely in the car.”

“Obviously.”

He shot her a tetchy took. “I had them at the car. I went into that pocket to buy pretzels and mulled wine. I might have…” He mimed a hand out of pocket action and then looked round as though the keys might magically be on the ground somewhere nearby.

“Maybe fallen out near one of those stalls,” she said. “Let’s go look.”

He held out his hands. “You stay here. The kids will come to you. I’ll go check.” He sighed. “Buggeration,” he said and hurried off.

Esther leaned close to the cuckoo clock stall as the snow came down in thick, tangled clumps. There was still virtually no wind but there had to be a point at which heavy snowfall automatically became a blizzard. Wherever that point was, surely they were close to it. She pulled her collar about her neck and continued to look at the range of clocks.

 “So, are all these clocks hand-carved?” she asked the old man behind the stall.

The old man grunted ambiguously. He was packing clocks away in wooden crates lined with straw. It was late; the fairground rides still turned and there were still people drinking and eating but this man had probably sold his last cuckoo clock of the year. And it was the last day of the Christmas market. Esther supposed the clocks that went unsold would resurface in this market or another next year.

“I just wondered,” she said. “They are very beautiful. Does someone carve them all?”

“Yes, yes,” he said and waved to the unseen space behind the stall. “All carved.”

He continued to pack clocks, spooling the weight chains in his hands before laying them flat. He moved sluggishly, failing to co-ordinate left hand and right.

“You make them back here?” said Esther. There was a narrow space between this stall and the next, little more than a crawlspace but, looking round, Esther could see a dim light and hear the sounds of industry.

“Yes, yes,” said the old man, waving. “All carved.”

“I mean, if you don’t mind me looking—”

The old man didn’t seem to care. She took a step towards the little cut-through. “I’ll just—” She slipped down the space. There was a surprising amount of room: the stalls weren’t arranged precisely back to back. A wide alley was laid out between them, covered over with sheltering canvas, in parts lit by an inferior sort of fairy light.

The sounds of construction came from the dim shanty town. There was almost no light here and Esther stepped carefully, waiting for her eyes to adjust. There were low tables — roughly made things — little more than split logs laid across trestles. Worn hand tools, too dark to make out clearly were strewn around.

Workers sat at the benches. She could not make them out properly, although they seemed happy enough in the near darkness. She guessed, purely from the sounds they made, there were three or four or them; no more than five. They must have been cramped: there couldn’t be room for more than two people to sit comfortably in that space. Suggestions of hands moved across their materials. A chisel glinted here, a saw there.

“Hello?” she said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt but the man said it was okay.”

The work stopped instantly.

“If you don’t mind,” said Esther.

Five pairs of eyes turned to regard her. Eyes set widely in round faces, far lower down than she expected.

The craftsmen — no, they were too small to be craftsmen — the individuals in the makeshift space behind the stalls watched Esther.

“Stinga henni með hníf

They were no bigger than children; small children at that.

“Do you work here?” she asked in her most gentle, mumsiest voice.


*And thus concludes the extract. I hope it whet your appetite to want to discover more.*

An Extract of new book – Violet by S.J.I Holliday Blog Tour @SJIHolliday #Violet @OrendaBooks #TrainNoir #Thriller #Extract #BlogTour #AnneCater #BlogTour

Violet
By S.J.I. Holliday

Today I am pleased and excited  to present an enticing extract that sets the scene of the thriller/train noir book Violet by S.J.I. Holliday. There is enough to give a bit of a taster to know that you are going to join in on a train journey, not just any train journey, an international adventure where you just know something isn’t going to be right and all will not be as it seems. Thanks to Orenda Books and blog tour organiser Anne Cater for organising this.

About the Author

Susi author photoS.J.I. (Susi) Holliday is a scientist, writing coach and the bestselling author of five crime novels, including the Banktoun Trilogy (Black Wood, Willow Walk and The Damselfly), the festive chiller The Deaths of December and her creepy Gothic psychological thriller The Lingering. Her short story ‘Home From Home’ was published in Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine and shortlisted for the CWA Margery Allingham Prize. Encapsulating her love of travel and claustrophobic settings, her latest novel, Violet, explores toxic friendships and the perils of talking to strangers, as well as drawing on her own journey on the Trans-Siberian Express over 10 years ago. All of her novels have been UK ebook number-one bestsellers. Susi was born and raised in Scotland and now divides her time between Edinburgh, London and as many other exciting places that she can fit in.

Blurb

Carrie’s best friend has an accident and can no longer make the round-the-world trip they’d planned together, so Carrie decides to go it alone. Violet is also travelling alone, after splitting up with her boyfriend in Thailand. She is desperate for a ticketon the Trans-Siberian Express, but there is nothing available.
When the two women meet in a Beijing Hotel, Carrie makes the impulsive decision to invite Violet to take her best friend’s place. Thrown together in a strange country, and the cramped cabin of the train, the women soon form a bond. But as the journey continues, through Mongolia and into Russia, things start to unravel – because one of these women is not who she claims to be…

Violet Jacket

 

Extract

Beijing

 1

I’m sitting alone on a concrete bench. Around me, people are swarming, shouting quickly in a language that I can’t understand. Above me, the sky is a thick powder blue, like dirty paintbrushes swirled in water. The smog is so dense I can taste it. Waves of panic wash over me as I try to inhale some fresh air, and I wonder how anyone can breathe in this city. What started out as an exciting, fun morning has rapidly declined into panic and frustration; and not for the first time, I regret leaving Sam behind in Bangkok.

There is something easy about that place, with the swarms of British backpackers and grinning Aussies, men on stag parties, cold beers and menus written in English. Even though Thailand is as far away from the English countryside as can be, there is a certain warmth. Familiarity. Despite all the stories you hear, I felt completely safe there. But then me and Sam had that stupid falling-out in the hotel lobby. I can’t even remember how it started.

And so here I am, sitting outside the Beijing international train station, no boyfriend, only half my luggage – since my rucksack went AWOL somewhere on the way to China – and still no ticket for the train I want, which leaves tomorrow morning. I could call Sam, beg for his forgiveness, ask him to follow me out here. But firstly, I know he doesn’t want to, and secondly, I’d only be doing it out of desperation. He got sucked in, in Thailand, didn’t want to follow the plan – my plan – loop back via China and the Trans-Siberian Express to Moscow, before flying home from there. He’d gone into an Internet café and resigned from his job; he was getting more excited than I liked by the cheap beer and the hordes of stunning young women that seemed to flock to him on a daily basis. ‘I’d just like to hang about here a bit longer,’ he’d said. ‘Lighten up, sweetheart. You need to smoke some more weed.’

Idiot.

He’d changed since the group of German students arrived. There’d been a wild night. I’d felt uneasy, but he’d felt the opposite. ‘This is the kind of fun I came for,’ he said. To them, not me. I knew then that my Sam was gone. Was I angry? Not really. I just hope he stayed sober enough to do the appropriate checks on some of those beautiful ‘women’ that he and the German lads were spending so much time with.

Now I’m alone, in Beijing, a bustling metropolis of nearly twentytwo million people, feeling properly homesick for the first time in months. I did have fun yesterday, going for a proper Chinese tea ceremony with a young couple I’d met in the gardens near the Forbidden City. The tea had been ridiculously expensive, and I’d realised early on that it was a scam of some sort, but as scams go, it was pretty friendly. And I know more now than I ever thought I needed to about the many different kinds of Chinese tea.

This morning I was buzzing, ready for another full-on day, making sure I could fit in as many crispy duck pancakes as I could manage. All I had to do was pop down to the train station and buy my ticket. The station is huge, the guidebook said, but buying a ticket should be simple. Just make sure you go to the international section. When they said huge, I hadn’t quite realised what that meant. But while I sat outside, waiting for the sun to push its way through the everpresent smog – it didn’t, by the way – it dawned on me that small towns in China have five million inhabitants, and that huge really means the station is the size of Manchester, and after walking around the whole place for two hours, being jostled and stared at, pointed at, pointed out and misdirected for hours on end, what I realised was that foreigners can’t buy international tickets in the station after all; they have to go to a travel centre in some business hotel, streets away … and that I am so over this now. This so-called ‘adventure’.

And so I sat myself down on this concrete bench, and all I want to do now is cry. But that’s not going to get me anywhere. Certainly not to Moscow, which is where I really want to be. I need to move on. Find another companion for my trip. So I take a swig of water, then I pick up my backpack and head back into the throng.

 

 

violet tour poster 2019

Hunter’s Chase – The Edinburgh Crime Mysteries by Val Penny @valeriepenny #LoveBooksGroupTours #Crime #Edinburgh #NewBook

The Hunter’s Chase
By Val Penny
Excerpt

Today I am pleased to be part of the Love Books Group Tour presenting “Hunter’s Chase” by Val Penny who has also gained accolades on this book such as “up there with Ian Rankin”.

Hunter's Chase book cover (1)

Blurb

Hunter by name – Hunter by nature: DI Hunter Wilson will not rest until Edinburgh is safe.

 DI Hunter Wilson knows there is a new supply of cocaine flooding his city and he needs to find the source but his attention is transferred to murder when a corpse is discovered in the grounds of a golf course. Shortly after the post-mortem, Hunter witnesses a second murder but that is not the end of the slaughter. With a young woman’s life also hanging in the balance, the last thing Hunter needs is a new man on his team: the son of his nemesis, the former Chief Constable. Hunter’s perseverance and patience are put to the test time after time in this taught crime thriller.

Synopsis

 Hunter’s Chase is a police procedural crime novel. It is set in Edinburgh, Scotland in November 2012. It is character driven. The central character is Detective Inspector Hunter Wilson. He must discover why three people in his city have been killed and who is responsible for those three deaths.

The first body has been dead for a few days before it is discovered. The cause of death and the identity of the victim (Mary-Ann Johnson) are both unknown. Hunter sees the second murder take place, when the victim is mown down by a car in a car park. Hunter knows the victim (Billy Hope) but cannot identify the killer and cannot recall crucial details correctly. The third victim’s attack is also witnessed by neighbours but everybody seems to have seen different things. The victim (Annie Johnson) is not carrying any means of identification.

Central to Hunter’s investigations are three young men and their fathers: DC Tim Myerscough and former Chief Constable Sir Peter Myerscough, petty thief Jamie Thomson and Ian Thomson who is presently incarcerated, and lastly loved up Frankie Hope and loan shark former councillor and Billy Hope.

The reader first meets Jamie Thomson who is carrying on his family business and breaking into a house in fine areas of the city. On this occasion he breaks into the house of Sir Peter Myerscough. Sir Peter is now the Justice Secretary in the Scottish Government. Sir Peter gives chase and catches Jamie after he trips over a corpse in the grounds of a local golf course. Sir Peter calls the police and the team is led by DI Hunter Wilson.

The next characters introduced are Annie Johnson, her parents, Mary-Ann Johnson and Joe Johnson and her boyfriend, Frankie Hope. Annie is a pretty girl who is pregnant by Frankie, a gentle young man. Annie’s mother knows about the pregnancy and has undertaken to tell Joe. It is clear, Mary-Ann has a secret that she had to confess to Joe. Mary-Ann had an affair with Frankie’s father, Billy Hope. Annie and Frankie are half siblings. Frankie’s mother Edna Hope is Jamie’s aunt.

Edna meets with Arjun Mansoor, the man who is running Ian Johnson’s car showroom while he is in jail. They argue. Hunter learns Arjun is found to be importing cocaine in luxury imported cars. Sir Peter Myercough is amongst his cocaine customers. He has been black-mailed and made fraudulent insurance claims to pay.

At first there is no apparent connection between the three attacks which find Mary-Ann dead, see Billy killed in a Tesco car park and Annie fatally injured in a leafy Edinburgh suburb. Annie is kept alive by the hospital trying to save the twins she is carrying. When the pathologist Meera Sharma confirm that Mary-Ann was also hit by a car, before her body was dumped, Hunter’s team believe they have a serial killer.

The victims have all been attacked with cars. One of the cars reported as stolen by Arjun Mansoor, the other belongs to Ian Thomson. Hunter’s main suspects are Joe Johnson, and Arjun Mansoor.

Annie dies after the delivery of her twins. Frankie and Joe attend the hospital and Joe confirms to Frankie that Annie was his half-sister. Frankie names the twins Kylie and Dannii after the Minogue sisters.

Tim is attacked by the car driver after Sir Peter tells his son where he is likely to find Ian Thomson’s car. Tim survives and sees the driver, Edna Hope. His testimony and DNA found in the cars allow Hunter to link her to each of the three deaths. Arjun and Sir Peter are convicted for their crimes.

Hunter's Chase banner (2)

Excerpt

“Fucking thief! Stop thief! Fuck! Fucking stop!” Sir Peter bellowed into the darkness.

“Yeah, that’ll work,” thought Jamie, as he jumped the wall and tore round the corner. He kept on running, but soon heard puffing behind him and realised his victim was giving chase. He was quick for an old one, Jamie thought, but no real match for Jamie, even in his tight shoes. But Sir Peter was clearly one angry man and wasn’t going to give up that easily. That was bad luck.

Jamie vaulted another fence and legged it across the street. He heard some of his haul hit the ground, but didn’t stop for it. He would still have enough; the bag was heavy. He hoped he hadn’t dropped the Breitling; he fancied that. He leapt over a wall and headed into the rough beside the golf course.

Jamie worked at that golf club courtesy of Sir Peter Myerscough; the irony was not lost on Jamie. He figured he knew the land well enough to make a clean getaway. He had not counted on his victim being home so early. He also had no idea Sir Peter could give chase so well. Unlucky. Oh shit, that old guy was gaining on him! How could he do that? Jamie had to move.

It was more difficult to cross the wooded area around the course in the damp and dark than he had thought it would be with his tight shoes. This damn bag didn’t help; it kept getting caught on branches. He dodged amongst the bushes and behind the trees to avoid his victim, but the old boy just kept coming. He would not give up, but the ground was wet and the leaves on the ground were slippery.

Fuck! Jamie tripped.

His ankle gave a deafening crack that was only drowned out by Jamie’s screams. Must be the root of a tree that tripped him. He could not get up. His ankle would not take his weight; it was buggered. He tried to crawl into the undergrowth. It bloody hurt, and he could not get away. Sir Peter would find him soon now. Jamie could not move but he thought fast. He threw his bag as far as he could, just to get it away from himself. His silk gloves meant there would be no prints. He tried to bury the stuff from his pockets. His ankle was agony. Jamie felt something strange where he dug into the ground, but he had too many other things on his mind to worry too much about that.

The old boy reached him and leaned towards Jamie. Sir Peter, cursing and panting, doubled over balancing on his knees. He yanked back Jamie’s hood and shone his torch into the thief’s eyes. Recognition.

“Jamie Thomson, it’s you! Scum! You broke into my house? Fucking ingrate! You are a thieving rodent. Do you know how hard I argued to get you that job at the golf club? And this is the thanks I get? You pissing rat. I spoke up for you, for rehabilitation; I really fought for you. There are half a dozen decent houses in my street. Why mine?”

“Oh no. Not you, Sir Peter!” Jamie tried to sound surprised. Then his curiosity set in. “So whose house would you have suggested I go to instead? Which one would you rather I’d tried?”


About the Author

Author pic Edinburgh (1)Val Penny is an American author living in SW Scotland. She has two adult daughters of whom she is justly proud and lives with her husband and two cats. She has a Law degree from Edinburgh University and her MSc from Napier University. She has had many jobs including hairdresser, waitress, lawyer, banker, azalea farmer and lecturer. However she has not yet achieved either of her childhood dreams of being a ballerina or owning a candy store. Until those dreams come true, she has turned her hand to writing poetry, short stories and novels.

Her crime novels, ‘Hunter’s Chase’ and Hunter’s Revenge are set in Edinburgh, Scotland, published by Crooked Cat Books. The third book   in the series, Hunter’s Force, follows shortly.

Tour Schedule

11th February Lizzums Lives Life @LizzumsBB
11th February Turn The Page @turnthepage171
11th February b for bookreview @BookreviewB
11th February Emma the Little Bookworm @EmmaMitchellFPR
12th February A Little Book Problem @book_problem
12th February Lacy ace Book Reviews @lacy_claire
12th February The Magic Of Wor(l)ds @MagicOfWorldsBE
12th February Nicki`s Life Of Crime @NickiRichards7
12th February Bookmarks and Stages @Lou_Bookmarks
13th February A Lover of Books @destinylover09
13th February Tangents and Tissues @tangentsbb
13th February Portable Magic @bantambookworm
13th February everywhere and nowhere @Kate_everywhere
13th February There’s Been A Murder Crime Blog @beenamurder

 

Senseless By Anna Lickley – Extract – Blog Tour @annal_writes @Unbound_Digital #Senseless #Diversity #Extract #NewBook

Senseless
By Anna Lickley

 

Senseless Blog Tour

Today I am pleased to announce is my turn to take part of the Random Things Blog Tour for the book Senseless by Anna Lickley. Today, I present to you an extract from chapter 1.


Blurb

Senseless is at heart an illustration of the messy unpredictability of love and life and the
resilience of the human spirit.

Senseless BookBeth’s partner, Dan, inexplicably vanishes from her life and nine years later she is still
struggling. In the intervening years, she has learnt British Sign Language (BSL) and got what she thought would be her dream job, supporting deaf students in college. However, she finds she still feels dissatisfied with just about everything: from working life to sex life, domestic life to social life, it’s as if the traumas of her past will forever mar her future.

Through her work, Beth meets a group of strong-minded, pragmatists who show her how
they’ve adapted to challenges of having a disability.

Is Dan’s disappearance the primary source of Beth’s sadness? Can her new friends help to shift her perspective on dealing with life? Will learning BSL prove to be significant after all? And what really happened to Dan? The answers may be quite unexpected.

The themes and characters of Senseless are moulded by the challenges of deafness and
disability but the book is not ‘about’ disability per se. More succinctly, it’s about ordinary
people bumping through the ups and downs of life like we all are.

Extract

Chapter 1

‘The Better Solutions honchos are a nasty, money-grabbing bunch of wankers, Beth,’ Rick was saying as they pulled up outside her house. ‘For God’s sake, you are 32 years young. What the hell are you doing in this pissy job?’ Beth was too tired to answer after they had driven a 400-mile round trip in heavy traffic to attend the Better Solutions UK AGM. She shook her head and shrugged instead. ‘All we do is drive across half the country to care homes trying to persuade underpaid staff to buy Better Solutions bath hoists and Better bloody Solutions state–of–the–art wheelchair ramps.’ Rick paused for breath but Beth knew he wasn’t stopping. She wondered sleepily how many times he’d said this to her in the course of the journey. ‘These people only come to our demonstrations to get the free mugs, pens, mouse mats, cakes and whatever the fuck else we have to sweeten them up with. We’re the ones feeling like bloody idiots slugging this stuff around and breaking our sodding backs in the process.’ ‘I know, Rick, maybe one day I really will get round to moving on but…’ ‘But what, Beth? “But” is what I’ve been saying all my life. We both have dreams of doing something else. What’s stopping you?’ ‘ ‘I don’t know,’ she shrugged, rubbing her hand over her eyes, ‘I’m too tired, Rick, I’ll have to go in.’

‘Alright, Beth love, I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Beth pulled herself out of his over heated car and it was so cold that by the time she’d walked the 15 steps to her front door, the metal door handle felt wet to her frozen fingers. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ she chanted as she fumbled with her key, seeing a frozen cloud coming from her mouth. The only light was a faint glow from the distant street lamp but even that was obscured by an overgrown bush. There were no lights on in the house, so Dan was already in bed. He would usually leave the porch light on if Beth still hadn’t come home from a long working day. He’d sometimes leave a note on the door for her too: Come to bed immediately! Or Welcome home, sexy! Tonight there were neither of those things. She was worried about Dan, he’d been in a strange, uncommunicative mood for the last few weeks. His sullen moods were very unlike him.

After asking a couple of times if he was okay and getting the brush off, she had decided to ignore it and wait for the real Dan to come back. It was probably just work stress; he had mentioned budget cuts. All Beth wanted now was to get this bloody rigid bra off and curl up in bed next to a calm, sleeping Dan hoping he’d wake up in a better mood tomorrow. When she got in, the dark house was freezing. Had Dan not had the heating on at all tonight? She went to the lounge and bent to turn on the glass-fronted faux-flame gas fire, holding out her hands to the flames. That’s when she noticed the envelope on the mantelpiece with BETH written in large black letters on the front. Had Dan left a welcome note after all? He’d never used an envelope before. She lifted it down drowsily, tempted to just put it in her pocket to read in the morning. But something about the formality of the sealed envelope made her open it. When she pulled out the folded piece of A4 paper there was just one short line in Dan’s best cursive. Bile rose in her throat as she read the words: I have loved you so much Beth, I’m so sorry. D xx All thoughts of sleep suddenly vanished. ‘Oh my God, Dan,’ she screamed out, ‘Dan! Dan!’ She ran to the kitchen and switched on the light; there was nothing there but a discarded half-drunk mug of cold tea. ‘DAN?!’ She bolted to the stairs, running up them two at a time, and threw open the door to the box room they used as an office. It was empty. With a pounding in her chest, she wheeled round and checked the bathroom. It was also empty, towels slung carelessly on the floor where she had left them this morning in her haste to dress. God! Finally she threw open the door to their bedroom. The bed was unmade but the room was empty. Thank God! All she felt was relief.

No Dan hanging by his neck or convulsed on the bed or slumped in a cold bath of bloodied water. But then the relief became despair. If the house was empty, Dan was gone.

About the Author

Anna Lickley PicAnna’s adult life has been moulded a great deal by challenges on her physical health and needing to adapt to them. She was diagnosed with neurofibromatosis type 2 (NF2) in the 1980s when she was 16. NF2 is a complex genetic illness involving benign tumours developing on nerves throughout the body, usually in the brain or spine. As a result, she went deaf whilst at University and began to learn British Sign Language to help with communication. She loved the language immediately and went on to became fluent enough to teach it.

In the last 5 years, Anna’s vision has deteriorated and she is now registered deafblind. That and other health complications led her to stop working. Although sad to leave a job she loved, she is now relishing having more time to write and much of her writing is greatly influenced by her desire to share the realities of living with disability.

Anna wrote and self-published a semi-autobiographical novel called Catch it Anytime You Can in 2012 and has in mind a title and plot outline for a further novel. She is in-house writer for Can You Hear Us CIC, a social enterprise dedicated to the needs of people with NF2 and also loves writing poetry, short stories and articles.
Senseless is her first full-length work of fiction.
Outside of writing, she loves horse riding and competes at dressage with the RDA (Riding for the Disabled Association)

______________________________________________
Title: Senseless
Author: Anna Lickley
ISBN: 978-1-912618-04-0
Pages: 288
Main Points of Purchase: Amazon