Jenny Kane: Coffee, cupcakes, chocolate and contemporary fiction / Jennifer Ash: Medieval crime with hints of Ellis Peters and Robin Hood

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Opening Lines: The Outlaw’s Ransom

This week, I thought I’d dip into my earliest Jennifer Ash novel, and share the opening lines from The Outlaw’s Ransom.  

Here’s the blurb to The Outlaw’s Ransom-

When potter’s daughter Mathilda is kidnapped by the notorious Folville brothers as punishment for her father’s debts, she fears for her life. Although of noble birth, the Folvilles are infamous throughout the county for using crime to rule their lands—and for using any means necessary to deliver their distinctive brand of ‘justice’.

Mathilda must prove her worth to the Folvilles in order to win her freedom. To do so, she must go against her instincts and, disguised as the betrothed of Robert de Folville, undertake a mission that will send her to Bakewell in Derbyshire, and the home of Nicholas Coterel, one of the most infamous men in England.

With her life in the hands of more than one dangerous brigand, Mathilda must win the trust of the Folville’s housekeeper, Sarah, and Robert Folville himself if she has any chance of survival.

Never have the teachings gleaned from the tales of Robyn Hode been so useful…

OPENING LINES:

Mathilda thought she was used to the dark, but the night-time gloom of the small room she shared with her brothers at home was nothing like this. The sheer density of this darkness enveloped her, physically gliding over her clammy skin. It made her breathless, as if it was trying to squeeze the life from her.

As moisture oozed between her naked toes, she presumed that the suspiciously soft surface she crouched on was moss, which had grown to form a damp cushion on the stone floor. It was a theory backed up by the smell of mould and general filthiness which hung in the air.

Trying not to think about how long she was going to be left in this windowless cell, Mathilda stretched her arms out to either side, and bravely felt for the extent of the walls, hoping she wasn’t about to touch something other than cold stone. The child’s voice that lingered at the back of her mind, even though she was a woman of nineteen, was telling her – screaming at her – that there might be bodies in here, secured in rusted irons, abandoned and rotting. She battled the voice down. Thinking like that would do her no good at all. Her father had always congratulated his only daughter on her level-headedness, and now it was being so thoroughly put to the test, she was determined not to let him down.

Stretching her fingers into the blackness, Mathilda placed the tips of her fingers against the wall behind her. It was wet. Trickles of water had found a way in from somewhere, giving the walls the same slimy covering as the floor.

Continuing to trace the outline of the rough stone wall, Mathilda kept her feet exactly where they were. In seconds her fingertips came to a corner, and by twisting at the waist, she quickly managed to plot her prison from one side of the heavy wooden door to the other. The dungeon could be no more than five feet square, although it must be about six feet tall. Her own five-foot frame had stumbled down a step when she’d been pushed into the cell, and her head was at least a foot clear of the ceiling. The bleak eerie silence was eating away at Mathilda’s determination to be brave, and the cold brought her suppressed fear to the fore. Suddenly the shivering she had stoically ignored overtook her, and there was nothing she could do but let it invade her…

You can buy The Outlaw’s Ransom: Book One of The Folville Chronicles, for your Kindle or as a paperback from-

Kindle-

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07B3TNRYN/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1519759895&sr=8-1&keywords=the+outlaw%27s+ransom

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07B3TNRYN/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1519760741&sr=8-1&keywords=the+outlaw%27s+ransom

Paperback-

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Outlaws-Ransom-Folville-Chronicles/dp/1999855264/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1520007697&sr=1-2&keywords=the+outlaw%27s+ransom

https://www.amazon.com/Outlaws-Ransom-Folville-Chronicles/dp/1999855264/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1520007771&sr=1-1&keywords=the+outlaw%27s+ransom

(Please note that if you have read Romancing Robin Hood by Jenny Kane and Jennifer Ash- then you will already be familiar with the story with The Outlaw’s Ransom)

Happy reading,

Jen xx

Opening Lines with Rachel Brimble: Shared Secrets from the Home Front Nurses

I’m delighted to be welcoming back a fabulous author, and dear friend, to my website.

Rachel Brimble’s latest #saga, Shared Secrets from the Home Front Nurses (from her #bestselling, World War II series), is published by Boldwood and is available from all good retailers.

It’s a pleasure to be able to share its #openinglines with you today.

BLURB:

1943: Becoming a Home Front nurse, meant Kathy Scott was finally able to escape the violence of her childhood. At long last, her life has taken a turn for the better. Particularly because, for the very first time, she’s made some wonderful friends–fellow nurses Sylvia, Freda and Veronica.

Kathy’s known for not being short of a word or two. So nobody’s more surprised than her when she finds herself tongue-tied around Freda’s handsome brother, James – who’s home from war with an unexplained injury.

Eventually they start to open up to each other… But can two people who have felt so broken by their experiences ever find a chance for happiness?

Don’t miss this powerful and unputdownable wartime saga about courage, healing and the power of friendship!

FIRST 500 WORDS:

Standing in line in the Upper Borough Hospital canteen, Nurse Kathy Scott resisted the urge to shiver, as the ghosts of her dead parents knocked their violent knuckles along her spine.

‘Just leave me be,’ she murmured, as she glared at the back of the nurse’s head in front of her.

The nurse turned and frowned. ‘Did you say something?’

Kathy sniffed. ‘Not to you.’

Their glares locked before the other nurse faced forwards again. Kathy defiantly lifted her chin as she fought against her guilt for being so rude. The simple fact was, the woman didn’t deserve her derision. Kathy scowled. Damn her parents for everything they had done to her when they were alive and how they continued to haunt her even after their deaths.

Tightening her fingers around her empty tray, Kathy cursed the unfairness of how easily her memories and treacherous feelings for her parents returned, over and over again, despite the beatings, the humiliation… the absence of basic humanity, that they had inflicted on her. How could it be that she still cared for them? She impatiently tapped her foot on the tiled floor as she waited in line, pitiful tears blurring her view as she stared at the taped bank of windows on the opposite side of the noisy room. Uniformed nurses chatted and laughed as they stood around in groups or sat at the long tables eating what meagre hot lunches the hospital had managed to cobble together for their hardworking staff on this damp and grey Wednesday afternoon.

An image of her parents’ body bags being wheeled past her on stretchers by the rescue workers who had found them amid the rubble of her destroyed home rose in Kathy’s mind and she swallowed the lump that dared to rise in her throat. Almost a year had passed since Bath had suffered the three days of German bombing that had killed her parents and reduced the house they’d all lived in together on Kingsmead Street to little more than bricks and ash, her mum and dad thankfully buried beneath the lot. Kathy clenched her jaw, refusing to acknowledge the single tear that slipped over her cheek. Good riddance to bad rubbish

God, how she hated these moments of care for them that continued to catch her unawares. How could she still think of them? They beat her, berated her, treated her like dirt and the ultimate inconvenience, yet despite the testy, often unjustified and downright horrible attitude she enforced to protect herself from the rest of the world half the time, her parents still spitefully lingered in part of her heart.

‘What can I get you, love?’

Kathy started.

The grey-haired kitchen lady smiled kindly from behind the serving counter, ladle in hand. ‘We’ve got vegetable soup with a nice chunk of bread. Or maybe you fancy a bit of shepherd’s pie?’

Kathy leaned forward to inspect the contents inside the silver chafing dishes in front of her. She screwed up her nose, her…

You can buy this, the latest in the Home Front Nurses series from all good retailers, including: https://mybook.to/SharedSecrets  

BIO

Rachel Brimble is the author of 35 novels and has been published by Harlequin Mills & Boon, Kensington Books, Harper Road Press and more. She now writes for Boldwood Books. Her latest Amazon bestselling WWII series, The Home Front Nurses is her most popular series to date with book four released in February 2026.

Her next series will be set in Castle Combe, The War Orphans will start in September 2026.

Rachel is also the owner of The Writer Printable Co, an Etsy shop offering printable and editable novel writing resources to help new authors on their journey to writing success.

Link: https://thewriterprintableco.etsy.com

To sign up for her publisher’s newsletter, click here: https://bit.ly/RachelBrimbleNews

Website: https://bit.ly/3wH7HQs

Twitter: https://bit.ly/3AQvK0A

Facebook: https://bit.ly/3i49GZ3

Instagram: https://bit.ly/3lTQZbF

BookBub: https://shorturl.at/nrxFJ 

Many thanks for sharing your opening lines with us, Rachel.

Happy reading everyone,

Jenny x

Why Cornwall?

A few years ago, on the publication of A Cornish Escape (previously Abi’s House), I was asked by Romance Matter’s magazine to write an article about what is it about Britain’s most south westerly county that draws so many creative souls to try and capture its flavour on paper? With the publication of my new #cosycrime series, The Fish and Chip Shop Detectives, just around the corner, I find myself considering that question once again.

Is it the natural geography and geology, the bark-like squawk of the seagulls, the sea, the sand, the salty air, or the aroma of vinegar soaked fish and chips with a promise of an ice cream made from clotted cream to follow?

The sheer majesty of Cornwall, from the haunting spectacle of Tintagel to the crashing of waves against the Battery Rocks in Penzance, alongside the quiet beauty of its villages and narrow country lanes, have conjured and bewitched the imagination of poets, novelists, artists, and potters since mankind first decided that cave walls would look much nicer with pretty pictures on them.

For me however, it wasn’t the scenery which drew me to place the adventures of Maggie Tyson and Ryan Stepney in Cornwall; it was nostalgia. A nostalgia which I’ve come to learn also applies to a large number of my readers; many of whom have been kind enough to tell me that my stories have transported them back to Cornish childhood holidays.

My Dad was born in Penzance and brought up in a terrace house on Alma Place. His mother, my Nan, ran a lodging house there, taking evacuees in during the Second World War- one of whom never left and became a sort of Great Uncle. My Grandad was a butcher at the long forgotten International Supermarket on St Jews Street; I still can’t conceive how he could cut joints of meat so finely!

Every school summer holiday was spent taking the lifetime long, motorway free, drive from Wiltshire to Penzance. My brother and I would spend weeks building sandcastles on Marazion beach. We’d try and skim pebbles across the surface of the sea (a skill I never mastered), and we’d squint through a pair of my Grandad’s ancient binoculars from the house’s attic bedroom window, straight across the sea and into the windows of St Michael’s Mount.

Each morning we’d wake to the sound of the Scillonian passenger ferry as she made her way from Penzance to the Isles of Sicily. Each evening we’d head to bed with that stretched face feeling that only comes from prolonged exposure to sea air.

I clearly recall the excitement of queuing up outside the fudge shop on St Jews Street in Penzance, desperately trying to make the impossible decision about which flavour of fudge to buy with my pocket money. I remember wondering why the pavements in the centre of Penzance are so high, and sitting with my parents outside various coffee shops along the front; fast melting ice creams dripping all over our hands.

It is this side of Cornwall, the minor events which add up to a feeling of happy security and contentment, that are as important in my novels as the seaside setting and the ready availability of a really good cream tea.

It was for all of the above reasons that The Fish and Chip Shop Detectives have their home in Mousehole. A small village, only a stones throw from Newlyn and Penzance, and a place that feels as familiar to me now, even though I only get there every few years or so, as it did when I was ten years old.

The Fish and Chip Shop Detectives by Jenny Kane

When writing cosy crime, for me at least, I need the location of the adventure to feel safe and familiar even if the action is far from safe! That means choosing a backdrop that has memories attached to it – good memories – not just for me, but for my characters.

Maggie Tyson, my leading lady, has lived in Mousehole all of her life, and at 47 years old, she has come to know almost everyone in the area – whether it’s from her own school days, meeting fellow mum’s while bringing up her daughter, Izzie, on her own, from running the Silver Surfer’s Crossword Puzzle Club withing Penzance library, or from ten years serving fish and chips in Robbin’s Fish and Chip Shop.

Maggie isn’t the only local to have a staring role in this new series – Harry, a pensioner with a heart of gold, and David, a police sergeant who has known Maggie since their teenage years – both bring local knowledge to the crimes that need solving.

Ryan, meanwhile, is the new kid on the block – but it doesn’t take him long to learn to love Mousehole and Cornwall once he smells the scent of fish and chips in the air.

The first book in the series is published on 2nd April.

You can preorder my cosy crime adventure from all good independent book shops, ebook/audio retailers, and…

 

 

Happy reading

Jenny x

Guinea pigs, a Robin Hood fan and a forthcoming wedding…

Valentines

As this week brings St. Valentine’s Day, I thought I’d share a little of Romancing Robin Hood– my part romance/part medieval mystery novel- with you. In particular, I’m introducing you to Daisy and some of her many animals, just before her wedding day.

Romancing Robin Hood is a contemporary romance is based on the life of Dr Grace Harper, a medieval history lecturer with a major Robin Hood obsession. So much so, that instead of writing a textbook on medieval life, Grace is secretly writing a novella about a fourteenth century girl called Mathilda, who gets mixed up with a real outlaw family of the day, the Folvilles. As you read Grace’s story, you can read the medieval mystery she is writing alongside!

The problem is, Grace is so embroiled in her work and passion for outlaws, that real life is passing her by.

RH- E Flynn

Grace’s best friend Daisy is about to get married, and she can’t help wishing a similar happiness to her own for her Robin Hood loving friend…

Extract

…Daisy hadn’t grown up picturing herself floating down the aisle in an over-sequinned ivory frock, nor as a doting parent, looking after triplets and walking a black Labrador. So when, on an out-of-hours trip to the local vet’s surgery she’d met Marcus and discovered that love at first sight wasn’t a myth, it had knocked her for six.

She’d been on a late-night emergency dash to the surgery with an owl a neighbour had found injured in the road. Its wing had required a splint, and it was too big a job for only one pair of hands. Daisy had been more than a bit surprised when the locum vet had stirred some long-suppressed feeling of interest in her, and even more amazed when that feeling had been reciprocated.

It was all luck, sheer luck. Daisy had always believed that anyone meeting anybody was down to two people meeting at exactly the right place, at exactly the right time, while both feeling precisely the right amount of chemistry. The fact that any couples existed at all seemed to Daisy to be one of the greatest miracles of humanity.

She pictured Grace, tucked away in her mad little office only living in the twenty-first century on a part-time basis. Daisy had long since got used to the fact that her closest friend’s mind was more often than not placed firmly in the 1300s. Daisy wished Grace would finish her book. It had become such a part of her. Such an exclusive aim that nothing else seemed to matter very much. Even the job she used to love seemed to be a burden to her now, and Daisy sensed that Grace was beginning to resent the hours it took her away from her life’s work. Maybe if she could get her book over with – get it out of her system – then Grace would stop living in the wrong timeframe.

Daisy knew Grace appreciated that she never advised her to find a bloke, settle down, and live ‘happily ever after,’ and she was equally grateful Grace had never once suggested anything similar to her. Now she had Marcus, however, Daisy had begun to want the same contentment for her friend, and had to bite her tongue whenever they spoke on the phone; something that happened less and less these days.

Grace’s emails were getting shorter too. The long paragraphs detailing the woes of teaching students with an ever-decreasing intelligence had blunted down to, ‘You ok? I’m good. Writing sparse. See you soon. Bye G x’

The book. That in itself was a problem. Grace’s publishers and colleagues, Daisy knew, were expecting an academic tome. A textbook for future medievalists to ponder over in the university libraries of the world. And, in time, that was exactly what they were going to get, but not yet, for Grace had confided to Daisy that this wasn’t the only thing she was working on, and her textbook was coming a poor third place to work and the other book she couldn’t seem to stop herself from writing.

‘Why,’ Grace had forcefully expounded on their last meeting, ‘should I slog my guts out writing a book only a handful of bored students and obsessive freaks like myself will ever pick up, let alone read?’

As a result, Grace was writing a novel, ‘A semi-factual novel,’ she’d said, ‘a story which will tell any student what they need to know about the Folville family and their criminal activities – which bear a tremendous resemblance to the stories of a certain famous literary outlaw! – and hopefully promote interest in the subject for those who aren’t that into history without boring them to death.’

It sounded like a good idea to Daisy, but she also knew, as Grace did, that it was precisely the sort of book academics frowned upon, and she was worried about Grace’s determination to finish it. Daisy thought it would be more sensible to concentrate on one manuscript at a time, and get the dry epic that everyone was expecting out of the way first. Perhaps it would have been completed by now if Grace could focus on one project at a time, rather than it currently being a year in the preparation without a final result in sight. Daisy suspected Grace’s boss had no idea what she was really up to. After all, she was using the same lifetime of research for both manuscripts. She also had an underlying suspicion that subconsciously Grace didn’t want to finish either the textbook or the novel; that her friend was afraid to finish them. After all, what would she fill her hours with once they were done?

Daisy’s mobile began to play a tinny version of Nellie the Elephant. She hastily plopped a small black guinea pig, which she’d temporarily called Charcoal, into a run with his numerous friends, and fished her phone from her dungarees pocket.

‘Hi, Marcus.’

‘Hi honey, you OK?’

‘Just delivering the tribe to their outside quarters, then I’m off to face the horror that is dress shopping.’

Her future husband laughed, ‘You’ll be fine. You’re just a bit rusty, that’s all.’

‘Rusty! I haven’t owned a dress since I went to parties as a small child. Thirty-odd years ago!’

‘I don’t understand why you don’t go with Grace at the weekend. It would be easier together wouldn’t it?’

Daisy sighed, ‘I’d love to go with her, but I’ll never get her away from her work more than once this month, and I’ve yet to arrange a date for her to buy a bridesmaid outfit.’

‘Well, good luck, babe. I’m off to rob some bulls of their manhood.’

Daisy giggled, ‘Have fun. Oh, why did you call by the way?’

‘Just wanted to hear your voice, nothing else.’

‘Oh cute – ta.’

‘Idiot! Enjoy shopping.’

As she clicked her battered blue mobile shut and slid it back into her working clothes, Daisy thought of Grace again. Perhaps she should accidentally invite loads of single men to the wedding to tempt her friend with. The trouble was, unless they wore Lincoln Green, and carried a bow and quiver of arrows, Daisy very much doubted whether Grace would even notice they were there…

If that extract has whetted your appetite for more, Romancing Robin Hood is available in paperback, and e-formats from all good retailers- including…

Kindle –
(Available via KDP for those who subscribe)
Paperback-

 

Happy Valentine’s Day,

Jenny x

 

Cosy crime time: a new year awaits

2025 has been a crazy year for me.

Old novel contracts ended and, after many years of writing audio-scripts and novels for my beloved Robin of Sherwood, the license period reached its inevitable conclusion. Add to that, several personal ups and downs, and moving house, then, in short, it’s been a year of change.

I had hoped that the second of my Robin Hood Club mysteries would be published in 2025 – but due to ill health, the chance to write a few extra Robin of Sherwood novels (The Magic Man, The Sorcerers’ Incantation, The Huntress, and The Scathlock Woman), and the need to produce a new novel to attract a future publisher, this didn’t quite happen.

However, May Day Murder at The Robin Hood Club is 60% drafted, so the wait won’t be too long next year (I hope!!!)

This year I left my fabulous writing corner in my – formally local – Costa. After over a decade of sitting there, writing over 30 books, I miss it dreadfully – and the lovely people I would see everyday.

Now however, I’m in a new location now, and the local coffee shops have already embraced me and my laptop into their corners. The black americano’s are still flowing.

The main focus for 2026 will be my brand new series: The Fish and Chip Shop Detectives. Set in and around Mousehole in Cornwall, this series should appeal to fans of cosy crime, as well as everyone who has enjoyed my contemporary fiction stories in the past.

Here’s the blurb:

COMING SOON: 2nd APRIL 2026

Don’t miss this brand-new cozy crime mystery series, perfect for fans of Clare Chase and Peter Boland – available to pre-order now!

There’s some fishy business happening in the idyllic Cornish village of Mousehole. As a killer begins to make waves, can these new amateur detectives solve the mystery?

Maggie Tyson loves living in the utterly charming village, Mousehole. She spends her days walking the local coastal paths, solving the latest crossword puzzle, and working in the small town’s only fish and chip shop.

Looking for a fresh start, Ryan Stepney is in desperate need of a job, and stumbles across a vacancy at the chip shop.

When a body is found by the harbour, shock ripples through the village. And as Ryan was the last person seen talking to the victim, he becomes the number one suspect in the investigation.

Maggie is certain that her new colleague had nothing to do with the murder, so swaps her apron for a magnifying glass, and starts to investigate herself.

Can Maggie prove Ryan’s innocence and reel in the killer, before they strike again?

Penzance: Market Jew Street

As regular readers of this blog will know, my father has his family roots in Cornwall. He was born and bred in Penzance, and so, consequently, I spent many summer holidays in the region, staying with my grandparents in their terraced home on Alma Place. I know the county well, and have always enjoyed using it as a backdrop to my fiction. (A Cornish Escape and A Cornish Wedding – set in Sennen – are amongst my bestsellers so far.)

2026 will see three Cornish adventures for Maggie and Ryan – my fish and chip serving, detective, team! It will also mean lots of lovely research trips over the border from Devon, where I live, into Cornwall, to make sure I get my locations as perfect as possible – it’s tough life, but I’ll manage!

As ever, I will be shoehorning as much writing in as I can in the year to come – my writing workshops are still running, and I have a few script plans up my sleeve. Two scripts in particular are in need of finishing 0ff, having been on hold for ages due to my Robin of Sherwood commitments.

So, while 2025 has been a year of upheaval and change – 2026 looks as if it’ll be one of murder and mayhem – but, hopefully, only on the page!

The Fish and Chip Shop Detectives by Jenny Kane

If you would like to preorder my first Fish and Chip Shop Detectives adventure, it is available from all good independent book shops, ebook/audio retailers, as well as:

Jenny x

Historical Seasonal Read: The Winter Outlaw

All of The Folville Chronicles novels are set in the winter months.

Book Two: The Winter Outlaw, is a race against time over the festive season.

Will everyone survive to enjoy the Yule celebrations?

Blurb

1329:  It is the dead of winter. The notorious Folville brothers are on edge. There are rumours of an unknown outlaw terrorising the Leicestershire countryside—a man who has designs on the Folville family’s criminal connections.

Determined to stop this usurper in his tracks, Robert Folville unearths a man hiding in one of Ashby-Folville’s sheep shelters. A steward from far-off West Markham in Nottinghamshire, the cold, hungry Adam Calvin claims he knows nothing of any threat to the Folville family. He has troubles of his own, for he is being pursued by vengeful sheriff, Edmund de Cressy, for a crime he did not commit.

Mathilda of Twyford, newly betrothed to Robert de Folville, believes Adam’s story, but with rumours about a vendetta against the family growing, the Folville brothers are suspicious of every stranger.

***

Here’s the prologue to whet your appetite…

Prologue: Winter 1329

Adam Calvin’s vision blurred as his eyes streamed in the cold. His breath came in wheezing puffs. He needed to rest, but he daren’t. Not yet.

It was only as the vague outline of a cluster of homes and workshops came into view in the distance that he realised where his legs had been taking him. Slowing his pace, but not stopping, Adam risked a glance over his shoulder. He’d expected to see dogs, horses and men chasing him, but there was nothing. No one.

Scanning the scene ahead, making sure he wasn’t running into trouble as well as away from it, Adam exhaled heavily and aimed for a building he hoped was still standing.

The last time he’d visited the tiny village of Walesby there had been an old grain store on its outskirts. Built too close to the point where the frequently flooding Rivers Maun and Meden merged, the grain store had paid the price of a poor location. Long since abandoned in favour of a superior bake house, it was a perfect temporary hiding place for a man on the run.

Adam had no breath left with which to sigh for relief when he saw the neglected grain store. Uttering a prayer of thanks to Our Lady for the fact the building hadn’t been pulled down, he lifted the worn latch. He eased his way into the damp space, which was stuffed with rotting sacks containing all manner of rubbish.

Scrabbling awkwardly over the first few rows of musty sacks, Adam made himself a man-sized gap at the back of the room. Sinking down as far as he could, hoping both the sacks and the dark would shield him long enough for his cramped limbs to rest, he did his best to ignore the putrid stench and allowed his mind to catch up on events.

Only a few hours ago everything in Adam’s life had been as it should be.

He’d been fast asleep in his cot in the small private room his status as steward to Lord John de Markham gave him.

Had given him.

Adam wasn’t sure what time it had been when he’d been shaken to his senses from sleep by Ulric, the kitchen boy. He suspected it hadn’t been much more than an hour after he’d bedded down for the night.

Ulric, who’d frantically reported that a hue and cry had been called to capture Adam, had urged his master to move quickly. The sheriff had unexpectedly arrived and there had been a brief meeting between him, the Lord Markham and one other unknown man. An anxious Ulric had said that rumours were flying around like snowflakes in the wind.

Some of the household staff were saying Adam had stolen something, some that there had been a death; a murder.

Either way, for his own safety, Steward Calvin had to leave. Fast.

Confused, scared and angry that his good name was being questioned; without having time to find out what was going on or defend himself, Adam had grabbed his scrip. Pulling on his boots and cloak, with Ulric’s help he’d headed through the manor via the servants’ walkways.

The only item Adam hadn’t been able to find to take with him was his knife. Contenting himself with lifting one from Cook’s precious supplies as he ran through the kitchen, he’d left the manor that had been his home for the past twenty years.

With a fleeting nod of gratitude to his young helper, Adam had fled into the frosty night. Only minutes later he’d heard the calls of the hue and cry; echoes of the posse’s footfalls thudding against the hard, icy earth.

Now, wiping tears of exhaustion away with the back of his hand, Adam strained his ears through the winter air. All he could hear was the busy work of the mice or rats who were taking as much advantage of the building as he was.

Glad of the water pouch Ulric had stuffed in his scrip, Adam took a tiny sip. He didn’t know how long it would have to last him. Closing his eyes, he rested his head against the sacks that boxed him in and tried to think.

Had he outstripped the hue and cry? If they were nearby, taking the chance to rest while waiting for him to run again, then Adam was sure he’d have heard something ‑ but there were no muttered voices, no horses panting and no hounds barking at his scent.

Adam managed to get his breathing under control. He’d been part of the hue and cry on occasions himself, and he knew such groups didn’t tend to chase their quarry far, or for long. Especially not on a cold winter’s night, when they could be tucked up in bed before the demands of the next working day.

With growing confidence that he’d chosen his bolthole well, Adam allowed himself to relax a fraction. Few people lived in Walesby since the most recent of many destructive floods, and its location meant he was only a few steps from the edge of Sherwood Forest. A desperate man could easily disappear into the woodland’s depths.

As the hours ticked on, Adam became convinced that the pursuit had stopped. However, he knew that by the morning the hue and cry would be replaced with soldiers if the sheriff barked the order. His bolthole wouldn’t stay safe for long.

Yet that wasn’t what concerned Adam the most. He wanted to know what he was supposed to have done that warranted his midnight flight. How could he even begin to go about clearing his name if he didn’t know what he was accused of?

In the meantime, where was he going to go?

***

Ever since I did my PhD (on medieval crime and its portrayal in the ballad literature of the fourteenth century), I have wanted to use what I learnt to tell a series of stories. Although I’ve written all sorts of things between 1999, when my PhD finished, and now – I still wasn’t sure it would ever happen. – but here it is!

 

You can buy The Winter Outlaw from Amazon and all good book retailers-

UK: http://ow.ly/RsKq30j0jev 
US: http://ow.ly/EvyF30j0jfk  

Happy reading,

Jen xx

Happy 4th Birthday: Winter Fires at Mill Grange

Winter Fires at Mill Grange is 4 !!

Following the seasonal pattern set by the first three novels in the series – Midsummer Dreams at Mill Grange, Autumn Leaves at Mill Grange and Spring Blossoms at Mill GrangeWinter Fires takes the Victorian manor house regulars, Thea, Shaun, Tina, Shaun, Tom, Helen, Bert and Mabel, through December, and on to the run up to Christmas.

Winter Fires at Mill Grange

Blurb

Mill Grange is putting on a show this holiday season!

When young Dylan Harris’s former babysitter, Harriet, needs a last minute venue for her acting troupe’s outdoor production of Shakespeare’s A Winter’s Tale, the staff at Mill Grange throw its doors open…but they may get more drama than they’d bargained for!

With a play to arrange, an unexpected arrival adds to the drama. It soon looks as if a miracle will be needed to make sure this Christmas is one that Thea, Tina, Sam, Shaun, Helen and Tom – along with retirees Bert and Mabel Hastings,– won’t forget…

Prologue – Tuesday November 30th

‘You are joking – aren’t you?’

Harriet wasn’t sure why she asked the question. Jason wasn’t known for his sense of humour.

As their leading man slammed his mobile phone against the table, she glanced around the assembled members of The Outdoor Players. Only moments ago they’d been happily nursing their pints of beer or glasses of wine, chatting excitedly about the opening night of their winter show. Now the temperature in the room, despite the blazing log fire, plummeted to an almost arctic freeze.

Peeping at Rob through her curtain of hair, Harriet watched him suck at his bottom lip, hiding all but one of his brilliant white teeth.

‘But the show is…’

‘I know perfectly well when the show is, thank you, Rob!’ Jason snapped. ‘What do you expect me to do? Magic the flood away?’

Disappointment gripped Harriet. This was to have been her professional debut; an acting role beyond school or university productions. The first step towards her coveted Equity card. She had practised her lines three times a day for weeks. Now it looked as if she might not get to say them anytime soon – if at all.

Harriet was relieved when Matt, manager, director and producer of The Outdoor Players, knocked the base of his pint glass against the table, restoring order before panic took hold of the entire cast of The Winter’s Tale.

‘Let’s start from the beginning. The phone call you just took, Jason – I assume it was from your parents? Can you give us the full story please?’

Every member of the cast stared at Jason.

‘In a nutshell, the performance is off.’

Chapter One – Wednesday December 1st

‘So, you see, we need somewhere new to perform. I know it’s a cheek to ask seeing as you don’t know me, and I was going to call Tom because I do know him, but I didn’t want to compromise him. I got the impression you’re all good friends at Mill Grange, but as Tom is just an employee really, I thought maybe it should come straight from me, but…’

‘Take a breath, Harriet.’ Thea cut through the young woman’s embarrassment. ‘Let’s start again. Are you asking me if I think Sam and Tina will let you use Mill Grange for some outdoor theatre?’

‘Yes.’

‘Right.’ Thea grabbed a piece of scrap paper and picked up her pen. ‘Now, tell me a little more about what you’d need, when you’d need it by, and how many people are involved.’

 

If you would find out what happens when outdoor theatre comes to Mill Grange, you can buy Winter Fires at Mill Grange, from all good book shops including –

Amazon – http://mybook.to/MillGrangeFour 

Waterstones – Winter Fires at Mill Grange by Jenny Kane | Waterstones

Nook – Winter Fires at Mill Grange: The perfect cosy heartwarming read this Christmas by Jenny Kane | NOOK Book (eBook) | Barnes & Noble® (barnesandnoble.com)

Kobo- Winter Fires at Mill Grange eBook by Jenny Kane – 9781801101974 | Rakuten Kobo United Kingdom 

Happy reading – and happy birthday Winter Fires!

Jenny x

Cover Reveal: The Fish and Chip Shop Detectives

How to start this blog?

With shouts of joy? Unreserved dancing around the café? An extra shot or three in my coffee?

Actually – I think I should celebrate the reveal of the cover of my very first novel with Hodder & Stoughton, by having a bumper portion of fish and chips for my dinner later!

And here’s the reason for the big smile on my face.

This is such a wonderful cover – and it’s just perfect for the story inside.

After many years of concentrating on the contemporary women’s fiction and romcom markets, I’m delighted to be branching out into the world of cosy crime.

Here’s the blurb:

Don’t miss this brand-new cozy crime mystery series, perfect for fans of Clare Chase and Peter Boland – available to pre-order now!

There’s some fishy business happening in the idyllic Cornish village of Mousehole. As a killer begins to make waves, can these new amateur detectives solve the mystery?

Maggie Tyson loves living in the utterly charming village, Mousehole. She spends her days walking the local coastal paths, solving the latest crossword puzzle, and working in the small town’s only fish and chip shop.

Looking for a fresh start, Ryan Stepney is in desperate need of a job, and stumbles across a vacancy at the chip shop.

When a body is found by the harbour, shock ripples through the village. And as Ryan was the last person seen talking to the victim, he becomes the number one suspect in the investigation.

Maggie is certain that her new colleague had nothing to do with the murder, so swaps her apron for a magnifying glass, and starts to investigate herself.

Can Maggie prove Ryan’s innocence and reel in the killer, before they strike again?

Who are “The Fish and Chip Shop Detectives”?
Forty-eight-year-old Maggie is a lover of puzzles. When she’s not working at Robbins’ Fish and Chip Shop, she can be found on her sofa, nursing a cup of tea and solving the latest mystery thrown at the detectives in Death in Paradise, Midsommer Murders and more. Maggie finds an unlikely friend in Ryan, a recent graduate who has just moved to Mousehole and is trying to figure out what to do with his life. Together, they serve up the best fish and chips Cornwall has to offer, with an occasional helping of mystery solving on the side.

Where is Robbins ‘ Fish and Chip Shop?
Mousehole is a picturesque fishing village in Cornwall, known for its scenic harbour, winding streets, and tiny sandy beach. It’s also home to Robbins’ Fish and Chip Shop, the only chippy in town. Tourists and locals alike enjoy a battered cod whilst admiring the calm waterfront. Mr Robbins, the owner, is notoriously private – no one knows much about him. Perhaps that’s another mystery for our Fish and Chip Shop Detectives to solve…

Research trip to Mousehole Harbour, May 2025

When and where can you grab a copy of The Fish and Chip Shop Detectives?

Out on April 2nd 2026 in the UK and Europe, and 7th July in the USA , the first book in the series is already available to pre-order from all good paperback and ebook retailers, including your local independent bookshop and:

Amazon UK: The Fish and Chip Shop Detectives: A brand-new and utterly addictive cozy crime British mystery (The Fish and Chip Shop Detective Agency): Amazon.co.uk: Kane, Jenny: 9781399754491: Books

Waterstones: The Fish and Chip Shop Detectives by Jenny Kane | Waterstones

Kobo: The Fish and Chip Shop Detectives eBook by Jenny Kane – EPUB | Rakuten Kobo United Kingdom

Amazon US: The Fish and Chip Shop Detectives: A brand-new and utterly addictive cozy crime British mystery (The Fish and Chip Shop Detective Agency): Amazon.co.uk: Kane, Jenny: 9781399754491: Books

Amazon.de: Amazon.de : the fish and chip shop detectives

It’s been immense fun to both create and write The Fish and Chip Shop Detectives and its sequels (coming in June and September 2026). I hope you will fall in love with my lead characters, Maggie and Ryan, not to mention the beautiful Cornish countryside which surrounds them.

I have to say, I’ve been blown away by the care and attention the team at Hodder have given to my new series – from the details on the cover (right down to the little fish forming the ‘i’ in FISH), to the editing and proofing of the words within.

If you can’t wait until April to have a read, then if you are a member of NetGalley, you can read a review copy.

Happy preordering,

Jenny x

Opening Lines: Secrets at the Ambrose Café by Carryl Church

I’m delighted to welcome fellow author, former student, and friend, Carryl Church, back to my blog today, to share the #openinglines from her fabulous second novel, Secrets at the Ambrose Café.

 Blurb:

Two women. Two different worlds. One secret that could ruin them both.

Exeter, 1925. Della Wilde has set aside her dream of moving to Paris to study at the renowned Le Cordon Bleu, choosing instead to support her family torn apart by war. By day, she works at the prestigious Ambrose Café, serving the city’s elite — she feels utterly invisible. Until a chance encounter with rebellious Alice Winters, the daughter of a powerful MP, upends Della’s world.

Alice is a woman caught between duty and desire. She secretly yearns to be an artist but is expected to marry a respectable suitor and raise a family. Della, with her sharp wit and quiet strength, is unlike anyone she has ever known. She makes Alice feel alive.

So she draws Della into her orbit — first as a muse for her secret art, then as something infinitely more intimate. But in a world where reputations are easily shattered, their growing bond is a danger that threatens not only their futures, but those around them.

As Alice risks scandal and Della faces the consequences of following her heart, they must decide: will they allow others to choose their path, or dare to forge their own?

This historical tale of courage, forbidden love and self-discovery is perfect for fans of Sarah Waters, Cynthia Ellingsen, Fiona Valpy or Rhys Bowen. 

Here are the first 500 words…

Exeter, 1925

Della stepped back to assess the birthday cake. The first cake Hastings trusted her to decorate without guidance. Three tiers of sponge encased in fondant icing stood regal on a glass stand. Embossed gold-leaf frescos circled the base, edible pearls tumbled over the layers and the top was crowned with wishes to the birthday girl in swirls of chocolate ganache. Twenty-one silver candles finished the decadent masterpiece.

Mrs Hastings came to her side, flour-dusted hands resting on generous hips. Della felt the weight of the Ambrose’s reputation heavy on her shoulders as her boss studied the cake, searching out imperfections.

Eventually she threw Della a smile. ‘You’ve the steadiest hand, Della Wilde. That lettering is flawless.’

William crashed through the double doors to the kitchen, leaving them swinging back and forth long after his arrival. He weaved his tray aloft and dumped it on the washing trolley. ‘It’s getting a bit rowdy in there.’ He cocked his head at the ballroom beyond the servery doors, where a birthday party was in full swing.

Anthony was next, spinning his empty tray like an acrobat. ‘Della, they’re ready for the cake.’ He stopped to inspect her work. ‘Blimey. It’s beautiful.’ He met her gaze, eyes wide with admiration.

A cheer from the other side of the doors snatched their attention. Anthony lit a match and set the candles ablaze.

‘Ready?’ He moved to take the trolley.

‘I’ll take it.’ William stepped in his path, leaving Anthony little choice but to acquiesce.

Della followed her cake on its journey to the servery doors, hoping it lived up to the occasion. She opened one side — Anthony took the other. As William entered the party, more cheering erupted. It was a rare opportunity to hear guests take pleasure in her work. She lingered to see the clientele in their finery. The birthday girl stood on the top table, adorned in a crimson bias-cut dress twinkling with sequins. Long necklaces of jet beads fell in layers across her taut body. A feather boa trailed her sinewy arms, and a headband sat regally on dark blonde hair cut in the daring Eton crop. A single artfully sculpted curl escaped from behind her ear, which dripped with diamanté earrings. She turned, exposing a smooth, bare back. Della followed the contours of her spine to the base.

Anthony shared in her voyeuristic activity. ‘I’ve never seen the like.’

‘Who is she?’ Della couldn’t drag her gaze from the spectacle. Silk stockings and silver heels pranced among the café’s finest china and cutglass coupes. The birthday girl held one aloft while she threw her head back in laughter, exposing the tight ribbing of her neck. A cigarette smouldered at the end of a silver holder in her free bejewelled hand. A tuxedoed man looked on with proprietorial eyes.

‘Alice Winters,’ Anthony replied.

Della shrugged.

‘You know, the MP Robert Winters. She’s his daughter — and a handful by the looks of things.’ He checked his watch and disappeared to…

***

If you want to find out what happens next, you can buy Secrets at the Ambrose Café from all good retailers, including:

Amazon: https://amzn.eu/d/dIlEnja

Waterstones: https://www.waterstones.com/book/secrets-at-the-ambrose-caf/carryl-church/9781781898857

Audible: https://www.audible.co.uk/pd/Secrets-at-the-Ambrose-Cafe-Audiobook/B0F8W2K986?source_code=ASSGB149080119000H&share_location=pdp

***

Bio:

Carryl writes historical fiction with a focus on the 20th Century. Her writing explores love in turbulent times, both romantic and familial. The people we’re given and those we choose for ourselves.

An early fascination with cinema led to a career as a Film and Photography Archivist. Years spent watching archive footage gave her a unique insight into how people lived in the early 20th century now brought vividly to life in her stories.

Originally from the Isle of Wight, Carryl now lives in Devon. The local landscape and locations are an inspiration for her novels. Carryl has a BA in Media and Literature and an MA in Film and Television Archiving. After working in Media Archives for seventeen years, including The Imperial War Museum and The BBC, she now writes full-time in the company of her cat, Ditsy.

Website: https://carrylchurch.co.uk/

Instagram: @CarrylChurch

Facebook: Carryl Church

***

Many thanks for sharing your #openinglines with us today.

Happy reading everyone,

Jenny x

 

8 Tips for Getting Down to Writing

One of the questions I’m asked the most, as both an author and a creative writing tutor, is

How do I get down to writing?

Let’s face it, there are a million and one plausible excuses not to sit and write. Most of them will be genuine – some will be sheer prevarication!

Not being able to write because you work long shifts, have poorly children at home, or pets that need walking… These are GOOD REASONS not to sit down and write.

Not writing because there’s a television show you’re keen to see, you need to go clothes shopping, or because you need to wash the curtains… These are EXCUSES!

If you are having trouble knuckling down – especially if you’re new to writing, ASK YOURSELF IF THIS IS WHAT YOU WANT TO DO. If it is – read on!

Writing is a lot of fun, but you can’t escape the fact it takes discipline.

Here are my top 8 tips to getting down to writing!

Find your place.

Try working in different locations- at home, a café, a library etc… Experiment with locations until you find the correct comfort zone for you and your writing.

Find your writing time and claim it as your own, even if it is only for one hour a week.

Some people are at their most creative in the mornings, some in the evenings. If you are not tied by work hours, try out different times of day to write to discover when the words flow the best. If time is limited, label one hour (or even just 30 mins) a day as YOURS.

Be brave enough to be selfish about it – this is YOUR WRITING TIME.

Get up earlier- stay up later- barricade yourself into your bedroom for an hour straight after work; find whatever works best for you.

If you can’t write during your chosen writing time, still keep that time as your own.

Sometimes the muse won’t come, however much you want it to. Keep that time as yours. Plot/plan/scribble/walk/polish your pens! Once you give it up once, it’ll be easier to give it up again, and you’ll lose it.

Turn distractions into stories

It you’re distracted by something, turn it into a short story or writing exercise. Make it work for you as a warming up exercise.

If you make a deadline, STICK TO IT

It’s so easy, especially before you’re contracted for work, to write with no deadlines. As soon as that happens you can be tempted to give up on your writing time. Make a deadline, Stick to it.

Focus on the end result. Think about what you want to achieve.

Always think of the big picture. This is your dream!

Keep your favourite food and drink handy.

Writing is hard work. Make sure you stay hydrated and don’t get peckish or your concentration will waver.

Allow yourself rewards. Bribe yourself if necessary!

Whatever it takes to keep your bum on that seat! Promise yourself a walk, a chocolate bar, a glass of wine for every section/chapter written.

When the book is finished, treat yourself to that jumper you want, that trip to the takeaway, a meal out, a concert ticket… You will have earned it!

***

Having writing everyone,

Jenny

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