Opening Lines: Vengeance by Roger A. Price
It’s that time again! Opening Lines blog day is upon us. This week I’m welcoming Roger A. Price to my place, with the first 500 words of his crime thriller, Vengeance.
Over to you Roger…
First 500 words
Chapter One
Jack Quintel didn’t need to be here, he’d requested his usual proof of death, but as he hadn’t used this killer before, he wanted to see it for himself. It took him a while to find a spot among the trees, and he was conscious of not flattening too many bluebells that were everywhere at this time of year. He knew the killer Charlie was no mug, nor was the target, Jim Reedly. If all went well Quintel planned to use Charlie again. The last thing he wanted was for him to realise he’d been here checking up on him; after all, he’d asked for his normal, if not unusual, evidence that the job had been done. He just wanted to satisfy himself, and watch the killer’s craft. Enjoy the show.
It was starting to go dusk so that would help; he just hoped Reedly wasn’t late home and it became too dark – he knew that wouldn’t bother Charlie, but he was beginning to wish he’d brought a pair of night-vison glasses. It took a couple of minutes to settle himself as he took in the surroundings. The house was a fairly new build, but a grand affair nonetheless, detached in its own grounds with a tree-lined private driveway – the privileges of rank. Its location was handy though, Fulwood was an established district of Preston and had more than its share of such houses – especially on the eastern side of the city where a lot of the newer builds were situated. It wasn’t far away from the industrial unit Quintel had hired, or had had hired for him. That was in a traditional brown field estate behind a newish built Asda supermarket. Perfect; as it backed onto the M6 motorway. Quintel always liked an emergency egress from anywhere he used; he was cautious, he had to be.
Quintel passed the time trying to fathom out where Charlie would be. He guessed somewhere where the car would stop, somewhere near the house-front. He could see a turn-around in front of the property which would seem to be the obvious place, but he couldn’t see Charlie, which wasn’t entirely surprising, given the circumstances. He just hoped his suspicions were ill-founded; it was not that easy finding a good assassin. You couldn’t just type ‘killer wanted to join enthusiastic team’ into an internet search engine, well, not without a world of trouble landing on you. It was just that he had learned long ago not to ignore his hunches; he wouldn’t have reached his forties if he had. The setting sun was dropping behind him now so he made sure he had good cover behind the oak trees. A peaceful vista, which was about to be shattered…
***
Blurb
Jack Quintel is a hit man. When a job comes in to kill the Deputy Chief Constable of the Greater Manchester Police Jim Reedly, he contracts it out to a new guy, Charlie Parker…
Watching in the shadows, Quintel sees Parker shoot out Reedly’s windscreen, then drag him into the woods and thinks the job’s been done.
But when Parker tries to pass off a pig’s heart as Reedly’s, things start to go very wrong. Jack’s right hand man Jason kills Charlie, who it turns out is an undercover police officer.
Detective Vinnie Palmer is with the Preston police. He was called in when they received the information about the impending hit.
Now he has to figure out how to clean up the mess.
And he wants whoever killed Parker bad. He finds the man who put Parker in touch with Quintel, a low life hood named Dempter, living in an estate in Preston.
He doesn’t know much, but motivated by money, agrees to be an informant for the police.
Christine Jones is a TV reporter. She and Vinnie had worked together before, chasing a serial killer.
They meet again at the warehouse where Charlie was killed, and realise their relationship could be more than professional.
But first, Christine wants to know what’s happening. Christine is working on a documentary about positive discrimination against non-Catholic officers in Northern Ireland since the peace process. She makes contact with a former police officer in Northern Belfast named Paul Bury, who feeds her some of the information she needs.
Meanwhile, as the bodies start to pile up in Preston, there’s another attempt on Reedly’s life, when a grenade is thrown at him at his brother-in-law’s funeral.
As Vinnie fights to keep Reedly alive, suddenly Christine’s life is in danger.
And they both start to wonder if the contract against Reedly has anything to do with her documentary on Northern Ireland. But how could it?
Filled with twists and turns and gritty detail, Vengeance is must read for crime fans everywhere.
***
LINKS:
Amazon UK Author Page: https://goo.gl/h2IYX8
Amazon UK for Vengeance: https://goo.gl/oxy9BI
Amazon US Author Page: https://goo.gl/tqFi0h
Amazon US for Vengeance: https://goo.gl/NSeSZi
Roger’s Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/CrimethillersbyRogerAPrice/
Roger’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/RAPriceAuthor
Roger’s website: www.rogerapriceauthor.com
Bio
Roger spent thirty years in the police retiring as a detective inspector in charge of a covert undercover drugs unit which received national acclaim, before turning to the pen. His first two novels – By Their Rules, and A New Menace – are in their own series driven from the covert side of crime and his ‘Badge and the Pen’ series is too but with normal investigative fiction thrown in as well.
Vengeance is the second in this series which stars maverick DI Vinnie Palmer and his sidekick, investigative TV news reporter, Christine Jones. They are unlikely bedfellows, which makes their relationship interesting as they chase dark forces which only become even darker.
The third book in this series – Hidden – is written and will hopefully be next year. Roger’s novels can be read in any order as they work well as standalones too.
Roger is also developing an original TV drama script and is planning to adapt some of his existing novels into script too.
***
Many thanks Roger. Great opener.
Don’t forget to come out next week for some opening lines from Gilli Allan.
Happy reading,
Jenny x
Opening Lines: An Unexpected Affair by Jan Ellis
Here we are again. Thursday has dawned, and there are some wonderful new opening lines to read.
This week Jan Ellis, friend, fellow RNA member and contemporary fiction author, is with me to share the very beginning of her novel, An Unexpected Affair.
Over to you Jan…
The 500 words I’ve chosen for you come from An Unexpected Affair, which began life as an e-novella back in 2013. When it came out, I was intrigued by the reactions I got from friends: these ranged from jaws dropping in disbelief to barely suppressed hilarity. This is not because I can’t write – I write and edit other stuff for a living – it was more the thought of a cynical old bag like me writing romcom that set them off.
I never intended to write fiction (you can find out more here https://jennykane.co.uk//?s=jan+ell) but once I sat down and thought about the settings and the basic plot, I was amazed by how quickly ideas flowed. As soon as my bookselling heroine Eleanor Mace appeared, the personalities of her mother Connie, sister Jenna and other family and friends followed on quite naturally.
Later I wrote A Summer of Surprise because I wanted to know what had happened to Eleanor and the other characters in the seaside town of Combemouth. The e-books no longer exist, but you can read both stories in one lovely paperback. I hope you enjoy the extract and decide to read on…
First 500 words…
SHE CAREFULLY SLIPPED THE BLADE of the knife under the tape and cut. Peeling back the flaps, she lowered her face to the contents and inhaled deeply. Erika, her assistant, smiled conspiratorially.
“You’ve gone over to the dark side. You’re definitely one of us now.”
“You’re right,” said Eleanor as she lifted the pile of paperbacks from the box, sniffed them and set them on the counter. “My name is Eleanor Mace and I am addicted to books.”
It was three years since Eleanor had bought the bookshop. Three years since she’d left her boring office job and caused her friends’ collective jaws to drop by announcing that she was leaving London and moving to Devon. She might as well have said she’d got a new career as a yak herder for the consternation this had caused. They clearly thought she was deranged, though only her sister Jenna had told her so to her face.
“Just because you’re divorced from Alan doesn’t mean you have to lock yourself away from the world.”
“Jen, I’m moving to the English countryside, not entering a convent.”
“I can see it now,” said Jenna, ignoring her. “In six months’ time you’ll have stopped shaving your legs, embraced tweed and discovered jam-making.”
“Now you’re being silly,” said Eleanor, thinking that it had already been some time since her pins had seen a Gillette disposable. “It’s not the end of the earth, Jen. There’s a train station and you and Keith can come and stay any time you wish.”
“I’d rather come on my own,” said Jenna, wrinkling her nose as she tipped the last of the Chardonnay into Eleanor’s glass. “You finish it. They probably don’t run to white wine where you’re heading. And what on earth will you do down there?”
That had been easy to answer: with the money from her divorce Eleanor could afford to buy a slightly crumbly bookshop with an adjoining cottage in a small, unfashionable seaside town. It had been a huge leap and scary at times, but running the shop made her happy, and her enthusiasm for what she sold and her knowledge about the books and their authors was undoubtedly behind the small success she had managed to build for herself. She’d made sure the shop was a welcoming place with comfy sofas to sit on and coffee and homemade biscuits on offer. With help from her son Joe, she had built a kind of den at the back of the shop where children could read, and there was always an eclectic selection of new and second-hand books to browse through.
“Don’t forget you’ve got that house clearance to go to this afternoon,” said Erika, bearing coffee and biscuits.
“Nope, it’s in the diary,” said Eleanor, eyeing up a chocolate cookie. “Do you think you can control the rampaging hordes for an hour or two while I’m over there?” she asked, looking at her watch.
“Oh, I think we’ll cope, won’t we Bella?” said Erika, addressing the…
***
Those 500 words were taken from A Summer of Surprises and An Unexpected Affair, available from all good bookshops as well as online via https://goo.gl/cZUFmR
Blurb
An Unexpected Affair
After her divorce, Eleanor Mace decides to begin a new life running a quirky bookshop in a quiet corner of Devon. She adores her seaside home in Combemouth and her bookshop is a hit and yet … Eleanor is still unsettled. So when she rediscovers an old flame online, she sets off for the South of France in search a man she last saw in her twenties. But will she find happiness on the Continent or does it lie in rural England?
A Summer of Surprises
In this enjoyable and eventful sequel to An Unexpected Affair, Eleanor Mace is finding life sweet and rosy in her Devon bookshop, but unexpected clouds on the horizon in the form of an ex-wife and a town-planning monstrosity are about to bring our charismatic bookseller a summer of surprises.
Author bio:
Jan Ellis began writing fiction by accident in 2013. Until then, she had led a blameless life as a publisher, editor and historian of early modern Spain. In 2017, her four e-novellas were published in paperback by Waverley Books who also commissioned a brand-new title, The Bookshop Detective.
Jan describes her books as romcom/mystery with the emphasis firmly on family, friendship and humour. She specialises in small-town settings, with realistic characters who range in age from young teens to 80-somethings.
As well as being an author, Jan continues to work at the heart of the book trade. Jan Ellis is a nom-de-plume.
Website: www.janelliswriter.com
Follow Jan on Facebook and Twitter @JanEllis_writer
Jan’s Amazon page: http://goo.gl/yqmAey
Instagram (even if I don’t know how it works…)
https://www.instagram.com/jan_ellis_writer/
***
Many thanks Jan,
Great opening lines.
Don’t forget to come back next week to read what Roger Price has to offer.
Happy reading,
Jenny x
A summer of events
The summer, dare I say it, is almost over – and what a busy couple of months it’s been. From children’s writing workshops, to freezing cold festival fields and a singles club- I’ve encountered them all.
There’s no doubt that summer is my busiest time of the year- and the most rewarding.
This year I was lucky enough to teach three children’s writing workshops for Devon Libraries (Cullompton, South Molton and Crediton), as part of the Summer Reading Scheme for 2018, on the subject of ‘Mischief Makers’. I was heartened and impressed by the range of stories the children created and I’m happy to report that the next generation’s imagination is alive and well. (They also have a much firmer grasp on the stories of Dennis the Menace than I do- my memory of the Beano has certainly slipped with age!)
The children of Barnstaple also proved their imagination is in tiptop shape, when I taught a creative writing class at St Anne’s Community Centre (a 10 week series of writing classes for children begins there in September- email me at imaginecreativewriting.com for details).
In July, I was invited to teach a short story writing workshop at the Chudleigh Literary Festival. A wonderful event; I had a great day surrounded by loads of talented writers, special guests and book lovers. Huge thanks to Elizabeth Ducie for inviting me along.
Last weekend I, along with many of my fellow Exeter Author Association members (PJ Reed, Richard Dee, Tracey Norman, Mark Norman and Susie Williamson), returned to Chilcompton for their annual fringe festival.
In 2017, when we attended Chilcompton, it was so hot that some of us suffered from heat sickness. This year that was never going to be a problem. To say it rained doesn’t really do the persistent and heavy downpour that lasted all day, justice.
Dressed as characters from out books, we all looked the part; from elf, to steampunk man, to medieval lady and beyond…however…as we were freezing cold we rather overdid the layers. Six layers in my case- and you can tell!
Never ones to give up easily, the EAA carried on regardless! Our talk audiences were rather smaller than usual, but the smiles were still wide. I had great fun talking to this little gathering about Robin Hood. Fingers crossed for a mild dry day next year!
As well as my usual workshops, my summer events finished off with an author talk to the Young at Heart singles club in St Sidwells, Exeter. Chatting away about how my writing career began was great fun. It soon became clear that a couple of the ladies in the group had always wanted to write, but had never been brave enough. By the time I left one had written the start of a short children’s story, and another had told a whole story via answering random questions. Fantastic!
Thank you to everyone who has hosted both me and my fellow EAA members this summer.
Now- if you’ll excuse me I’d better go and edit my next novel…
Happy reading,
Jenny
End of the month: A glimpse of autumn
OK, so who said it could be almost September already? No one asked me! I have far too much to get done this year for it to be time to knock on September’s door.
However! As it is the end of the month, I’m flinging the door open wide to the wonderful Nell Peters.
Over to you Nell…
Guten Morgen meine Freunde, and anyone else who just happens to be passing. Here we are at the end of August – how on earth did that happen? The school summer holidays are all but over and we are standing at the edge of the slippery slope that descends into cold weather, short daylight hours, Halloween, Bonfire Night and *whispers* Christmas. Yikes!
There is already Christmas stuff in our local Tesco …But before we start hanging up our stockings and buying earplugs as protection against Slade, there’s the OH’s birthday to celebrate. On the day he was born (1961), the Dutch National Ballet was formed through a merger of Netherlands Ballet (Dance Director, Sonia Gaskell) and Amsterdam Ballet (Dance Director, Mascha ter Weeme). This put an end to the rivalry or ‘ballet war’ between the two companies – loaded tutus at dawn? OK, anyone else harbouring a stereotypical mental image of prima ballerinas noisily pirouetting their stuff across the stage in wooden clogs, with a tulip clenched firmly between their teeth? That’ll just be me, then …My paternal grandfather, Wilfred, was also born on this day way back in 1897 – he was the one who lied about his age to become a pilot in the Royal Flying Corps in 1914. Wilfred shared his date of birth with American actor, Frederic March, born in Racine, Wisconsin, who appeared in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and The Best Years of Our Lives, as well as German writer and poet, Marianne Bruns, born in Leipzig. They died in 1966, 1975 and 1994 respectively, so Marianne walks away a clear winner of the longevity prize. Also on this day in 1897, British General Horatio Kitchener’s army occupied Berber, North of Khartoum, and Thomas Edison patented the Kinetoscope (kinetographic camera), the first movie projector. Say cheese!
by Bassano, proof print, 29 July 1910
August 31st 1976 wasn’t a good day for either Mexico (their currency, the peso, was devalued) or George Harrison, when Judge Richard Owen of the United States District Court found him guilty of ‘subconsciously’ copying the 1963 Chiffons’ tune, He’s So Fine and releasing it as My Sweet Lord in November 1970. The record reached #1, making George the first Beatle to have a solo chart-topper, but with nasty terms like ‘copyright infringement’ and ‘plagiarism’ thrown into the legal mix, the shine may have faded somewhat from that achievement.
Perhaps musical composition (and this is pure hypothesis on my part, since I am tone deaf!) bears similarity to writing a novel, in that everything is to a certain extent a re-mix? The Thirty-Six Dramatic Situations (1895) is a list compiled by Georges Polti, to categorise every dramatic situation that might occur in a story or performance. He analysed Greek classical texts, plus classical and contemporary French works, along with a few non-French authors. In the book’s introduction, Polti claims to be continuing the work of Carlo Gozzi, who also suggested thirty-six basic plots.
However, in 1965, Kurt Vonnegut submitted a thesis to Chicago University, arguing that there are in fact only six scenarios that form the foundation of literary ‘shapes’. Much to his great annoyance (fair enough – anyone who has ever laboured over a thesis knows how much blood, sweat and hair-tearing goes into it) his work was rejected. But years later the dust was blown from the manuscript and the premise used as a springboard for researchers at the University of Vermont, who fed 1,737 stories from Project Gutenberg – all English-language fiction texts – through a programme that analysed the language for emotional content. They concluded there are ‘six core trajectories which form the building blocks of complex narratives’. Way da go, Kurt!
On this day in 1730, amusingly-named Gottfried Finger (sounds painful) died. You will all know he was a Moravian Baroque composer and virtuoso musician, the viol (of the viola/violin family) being his weapon of choice – many of his compositions were written for the instrument. Finger was born in Olomouc, the modern-day Czech Republic, and worked for the court of James II of England before becoming a freelance composer. Sometimes known as Godfrey, he also wrote operas and entered a contest in London to adapt William Congreve’s The Judgement of Paris as such, but after managing only fourth place he grabbed his bow and resin in a huff and moved to Germany, where he died in Mannheim.
Gottfried was preceded in death by one Ole Worm (snigger), Danish physician and historian, who breathed his last on this day in 1654, aged sixty-six. Ole was the son of Willum Worm (it just gets better!) a wealthy man and mayor of Aarhus, and Dorothea Fincke, the daughter of friend and colleague, Thomas Fincke. Thomas was a mathematician and physicist who invented the terms ‘tangent’ and ‘secant’, while teaching at the University of Copenhagen for more than sixty years. I really hope he was given a gold watch for long service. To give Ole his due, while he was personal physician to King Christian IV of Denmark, he courageously remained in Copenhagen to care for the sick, during an epidemic of the Black Death. Olé, Ole! So sorry …
More recently, Walter William Bygraves – better known as Max – died in Australia on this day in 2012. Born into poverty in Rotherhithe, London in 1922, he worked his way up to become a comedian, singer, actor and variety performer who had his own TV show. He appeared in the Royal Variety Show twenty times, as well as hosting Family Fortunes. Bit of a lad, was our Max – not only did he have three children with his wife, Blossom (real name Gladys), he added another three, born as the result of extra-marital affairs.
Exactly a year after Max, David Paradine Frost died of a heart attack while enjoying a life on the ocean wave, aboard the MV Queen Elizabeth – he’d been booked as a guest speaker. Born the third child and only son of a Methodist minister, Frost took the well-trodden Cambridge/Footlights route and, after graduating with a Third in English, went on to develop a hugely varied career in the media. He first came to the viewing public’s notice in the UK when chosen to host the satirical programme That Was The Week That Was in 1962, and his popularity led to work in US TV, plus a series of high-profile interviews, including Richard Nixon. A post mortem revealed that Frost suffered from hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, a hereditary heart disease which affects roughly one in five hundred people – sadly, it also killed his oldest son, Miles, in 2015, when he was just thirty-one.
On the domestic front, August has been a time of upheaval and life-changing decisions. I can see a chink of light at the end of an eight year long tunnel, which began when my dad had a minor stroke. At that time, both my parents had already started to show obvious signs of dementia but weren’t diagnosed with the vascular variety until four years later. It was all downhill after that; even with some family members helping out and five visits a day from private care providers, we staggered from one crisis to the next.
After my dad died last year, my mother inevitably spent some time on her own and to counteract this as much as possible, #2 son – bless him – stayed at the house Mon-Fri, supplementing the care visits. This still left weekends and that’s when I would spend hours on end gawping at images from the CCTV system we had installed for my mother’s safety. Things came to a head during the recent hot weather, when she started to refuse both liquids and food – she quickly became so weak that she ended up doing an overnighter in hospital on a saline drip. We’d bent over backwards to adhere to both parents’ wish to stay in their own home, but after giving it our very best shot, #2 and I simultaneously decided that we’d come to the end of the road – hard decisions had to be made, and quickly.
Over four days we planned a military operation to get my mother out of the house she hasn’t voluntarily left for a very long time, to begin the four weeks of respite care I’d arranged in a rather swish care home – previously checked out for just such an eventuality. By stealth – the theme tune to Mission Impossible playing on a loop in my head – we got clothes, toiletries and a few personal items together and stashed them out of sight, arranged for one of the visiting carers who has a good rapport with my mother to stay on for extra time to act as escort, along with another carer borrowed from the home, we also borrowed a wheelchair from the home, booked a disabled taxi, managed to grapple through an assessment of needs with one of the care home staff, and crawled to the pub exhausted the evening before Evacuation Day.
Everything went like clockwork on the morning. My mother was sitting in the hallway, all dressed and fed and in the wheelchair – we’d told her she had an appointment and though protesting loud and long that she didn’t want to go, we steadfastly ignored her. It was a case of now or never – and never wasn’t an option. Then just as the taxi was due, there was a car accident at the end of the drive – no one hurt, but damaged vehicles blocking the road caused a huge tailback. When the taxi eventually arrived, the two carers swooped into action and had my mother out of the door and into the back in seconds – amid wails of outrage – and rode shotgun during the short drive to the care home. #2 and I followed at a safe distance, the burden of guilt weighing heavily on our shoulders.
As always, I’m writing this blog in advance so that Jenny has time to do the magic thing with it. There are six days to go until the respite period ends and we will know then if a permanent place can be offered – stressful, nail-biting times. So far, things have gone well. My mother is eating and drinking almost normally and interacting with others and staff and has had quite a few visitors. It’s a well-run, friendly home with a good atmosphere – her room has a lovely view of the gardens and one day she may even venture out there. The fees are eye-watering, but she has round-the-clock care from brilliant staff, in a safe and secure setting – you can’t put a price on that.
Wish me luck!
Thanks for having me, Jenny. Toodles.
NP
***
GOOD LUCK!!
Guilt is always such a nightmare- especially when you’ve done the right thing.
Thanks again for such a fab blog,
Happy reading,
Jenny xx
Opening Lines: Slamming Doors by Natalie Dawn
Natalie Dawn is this week’s guest on my ‘Opening Lines’ blog.
I’m delighted to present you with the first 500 words (exactly) of Natalie’s crime thriller, Slamming Doors, the first of three books in ‘The Retribution Series.’
First 500 words…
FLASHBACK_AGED 34
‘I know there was a gun.’ Selena spooned the sweet sugary froth from the surface of her cappuccino, watching her best friend’s face intently.
‘A gun?’ Kara gasped as she leant forward to place her mug on the low glass coffee table.
Selena nodded, sipping cautiously from her cup, disappointed to find the liquid bitter beneath the seductive milky cloud, leaving a stale coating on her tongue.
‘I didn’t tell you about the gun before..?’ Selena frowned at Kara in surprise. ‘I’ve been getting these flashbacks about that night, but as the memories merge together, I forget what’s come to me recently and which bits I’ve known all along. Is the gun new?’
‘You’re damn right the gun is new!’ Kara gushed. ‘You never mentioned a gun before! Did Joel threaten you!?’
‘No! Not at all. In fact, it was Joel who was being threatened.’
‘Hmph,’ Kara retorted, helping herself to a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the sofa between them. ‘They should have pulled the bloody trigger.’
Selena had to stop herself from reprimanding Kara. She found it a struggle every time they met up and the conversation inevitably wandered back to Joel. It wasn’t that Selena was protecting him, like she used to – just that she hated any incitement of violence, always had. But she didn’t want Kara to misread it as some misplaced loyalty to Joel, so she swallowed it down.
‘So you’re in this dodgy Thai bar and a guy pulls a gun on Joel – then what?’ Kara shrugged.
‘No, you’ve got it all wrong. That wasn’t how it happened at all.’
‘So tell me. It’s been years – I’ve forgotten how it all went. And who knows how many memories you may have restored since then?’
Kara was right – it had been four years since they’d met up in that little Italian in Bayswater for their regular after-work girly catch-up – which actually happened to be anything but regular, because it was the week after Selena had left Joel and the day Selena finally revealed all of the horrors Joel had subjected her to. The memories of that night in Thailand had featured heavily, but neither of them could now remember exactly what they had discussed amidst the emotional chaos of the separation.
‘From what I remember, your recollections of that night were pretty sketchy. In honesty, I don’t think there really was an actual story. It was all a bit vague….’
‘There is definitely a story,’ Selena confirmed.
‘Then maybe you’ve remembered a lot more since you first told me,’ Kara prompted.
‘It does seem to be coming back in patches. I’m not sure I want to remember it all.’
‘I think I was so overwhelmed by the horrid bit, that I’ve forgotten the details…’ Kara wriggled as she recalled it ‘you know the really horrible bit…’
Selena nodded mournfully that she understood.
‘I still can’t believe he did that to you.’ Kara held her face in her hands…
***
Blurb
Selena Delano never reported her ex-husband, Joel, for sexually attacking her.
Five years on, Selena is content in her new life and determined to protect her young family from the shame of her past.
Despite this, she feels compelled to track down Joel’s new girlfriend in a bid to prevent her from becoming his next victim…
***
‘Slamming Doors’ is available on Amazon Kindle and Paperback: https://t.co/CI26k6tjLq
***
Bio
Natalie Dawn is a graduate of Drama and Theatre, a Mother to two young children and a self-confessed chocoholic. After the beautiful chaos of every day, when the children are finally asleep, she writes Domestic Noir novels (and gets very little sleep herself..!)
Slamming Doors is Natalie’s third novel but the first she felt could brave it alone in the big wide world. Natalie works as an Assessor for Building Sustainability and is currently querying her fourth – and most recent – novel with agents, whilst penning her fifth….
‘Slamming Doors’ is available on Amazon Kindle and Paperback: https://t.co/CI26k6tjLq
Follow Natalie Dawn on Twitter @NatalieNovelist and on Facebook: Natalie Dawn
***
Thanks Natalie!
Come back next week for the first 500 words from a novel by Tracey Norman.
Happy reading,
Jenny x
Opening Lines: Meet Me At Wisteria Cottage by Teresa F Morgan
Today I’m delighted to welcome fellow author, friend, and co-member of the Wiltshire RNA chapter, Teresa Morgan, to my place to share the first 500 words of Meet me at Wisteria Cottage.
Over to you Teresa…
Thanks Jenny for inviting me onto your Opening Lines blog feature. I’ve taken the first 500 words from my latest novel, Meet Me At Wisteria Cottage. It’s a contemporary romance novel based in the idyllic setting of Cornwall, and as you can see, my hero and heroine start off on the wrong foot with each other…
Here are my first 500 words. Enjoy!
Maddison Hart threw her bag on the passenger seat, turned the key in the ignition and, checking the pavement was clear, reversed off the driveway. A bad memory reminded her to glance in her wing mirror just in time. She was about to hit her neighbour’s pickup truck on the opposite side of the road – again. She slammed the brakes and cursed. She’d only just had her damn brake light fixed.
“Bloody idiot,” she said, screwing up her face.
Why did he park it there, on the road, and not on his driveway? It was big enough!
He always seemed to be parked there when she wanted to reverse off her drive, too! Damn the man.
Her neighbour, wearing only a pair of knee-length khaki shorts, and busy putting some tools into the back of the black pickup, smirked.
Oh, crap, he’d heard her too, with her window partially down. Sod it, he’d been living here three months, and now it was getting annoying. She pressed the button, and lowered her window further. She would not be intimidated by his bare chest and muscles.
“Mr…” she glanced at the stickers reading ‘Tudor Landscapes’ along the truck’s side, “Mr Tudor,” she said more assertively, “could you not park your truck right there?”
“It’s Harry.”
“Okay, Harry,” she sniped, “could you please not park your truck right there.” Everything about him, his whole demeanour, infuriated Maddy.
“Why?”
“I nearly hit it – again!”
“What do you mean again?” He glanced at the truck, rubbing his hand along the paintwork.
“I said nearly.” She lied. Last time she had clonked it, but it had done more damage to her car than his.
“It’s easy, look in your mirrors as you reverse off your drive, lady.”
Maddy took a deep breath, her teeth clamped together and dramatically swished her strawberry blonde hair off her shoulders before choosing her next words. “It’s awkward whether I look in my mirrors or not.”
“Drive slower then.”
Maddy refrained from growling with frustration, instead she gripped the steering wheel tighter. The man was obviously too arrogant to listen. “It doesn’t matter how fast I go. I’m used to reversing off my drive, hassle free. The people who lived in the house before you never parked on the road. They used their driveway.”
“Then reverse onto your drive, so you can see what you’re doing when you leave, if it’s so difficult.”
“It’s not easy to reverse onto my drive either, with your monstrosity of a truck in the road.” The road was too narrow, as it only led to a handful of houses.
“Maybe you should own a smaller car if you can’t handle it.”
Deep breath, Maddy. One, two, three… She did not like his smug expression, and wished he wasn’t six feet tall and built like a marine, standing there baring his tanned torso, because she wanted to wipe that smirk off his face. Bastard. She hated smug bastards.
“Are you implying I can’t drive?” Her eyes
Blurb:
A Cornish Escape
After her house is set on fire and her love life is left in tatters, Maddy Hart can’t believe her luck when a friend offers her the temporary haven of Wisteria Cottage. Overlooking the turquoise blue waters of the Cornish coast, the fresh air feels like a fresh start for her and her broken heart.
Peeking out of the cosy cottage windows, Maddy’s surprised to see her gorgeous but insufferable neighbour Harry Tudor has been employed to landscape the garden. But as the wisteria winding its way around the cottage begins to bloom, an unlikely friendship starts to blossom…
Bio-
Teresa F Morgan writes contemporary romance. Her debut novel ‘Plus One is a Lucky Number’ was published in August 2013 by HarperImpulse. This novel, having gone through the RNA’s New Writer Scheme lead to Teresa being a contender for the Romantic Novelist Association’s Joan Hessayon New Writer’s Award in 2014. One Fine Day, her second novel, was published by HarperImpulse in January 2015 and her third novel, Meet Me At Wisteria Cottage was published in April 2017.
Teresa originates from Surrey, moving to Weston-super-Mare in 1998. She now lives with her two sons and a budgie called Rio. Family holidays in Cornwall have lead to the scenic Cornish coastline and the city of Bristol being the back drop for her novels.
She’s at her happiest baking cakes, putting proper home cooked dinners on the table (whether the kids eat them or not), reading a good romance, or sitting at her PC emptying her thoughts onto the screen.
Teresa loves writing contemporary romance, stories with a touch of escapism and creating heroes readers will fall in love with.
https://www.facebook.com/teresafmorgan12/
http://www.teresamorgan.co.uk/
Meet Me At Wisteria Cottage Buy Link:
Amazon UK / Amazon US / Kobo / Google Play / Barnes & Noble / iTunes
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Many thanks for sharing your first 500 words Teresa!
Come back next week to read the introduction from one of Natalie Baldwin’s novels.
Happy reading,
Jenny x
