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

Category: Contemporary fiction Page 43 of 61

Another Cup of Coffee ONLY 99p/99c

What better way to spend the weekend, than with a cuppa, your feet up, and a new book to read?

The first novel in my ‘Another Cup of…’ series, Another Cup of Coffee, is currently available at a BARGAIN price!

ONLY 99p/99c

Another Cup of Coffee - New cover 2015

Blurb-

Thirteen years ago Amy Crane ran away from everyone and everything she knew, ending up in an unfamiliar city with no obvious past and no idea of her future. Now, though, that past has just arrived on her doorstep, in the shape of an old music cassette that Amy hasn’t seen since she was at university.
Digging out her long-neglected Walkman, Amy listens to the lyrics that sound tracked her student days. As long-buried memories are wrenched from the places in her mind where she’s kept them safely locked away for over a decade, Amy is suddenly tired of hiding.
It’s time to confront everything about her life. Time to find all the friends she left behind in England, when her heart got broken and the life she was building for herself got completely shattered. Time to make sense of all the feelings she’s been bottling up for all this time. And most of all, it’s time to discover why Jack has sent her tape back to her now, after all these years…
With her mantra, “New life, New job, New home”, playing on a continuous loop in her head, Amy gears herself up with yet another a bucked-sized cup of coffee, as she goes forth to lay the ghost of first love to rest…

coffee and cake

You can pick up this word-ish cup of coffee, for less than the price of a real cup of coffee via this link- mybook.to/cupcoffee

***

Happy reading!

Jenny x

So you want to be a writer

So you want to be a writer.

8 questions it’s helpful to ask before you start.

Who are you writing for?

Yourself, friends, family…

What are you writing for?

Money, fun, to make a point, to leave something of yourself behind after your death, because you simply have to write?

So – you’ve decided to take the plunge, now you need to ask…

What genre are you going to write?

Crime, romance, paranormal, steampunk, fantasy, erotica, contemporary fiction, goths, thrillers….the list is huge- and expanding all the time.

Which age group/gender are you targeting?

Adults? Teenagers? Children? Men? Women? Everyone?

Let’s get practical!

Where will you write?

At home, in the local café, the library, or a hired office?

What medium will you chose?

Paper, computer, tablet, phone, dictation?

Will you approach an agent, a publisher, or self publish?

And- most boringly practical of all- can you manage your own marketing?

Don’t forget if you don’t market your writing, then all your hard work will have been wasted. No one will know your book exists if you don’t wave your flag! So, love it r hate, you will need to get to grips with social media.

***

Happy questioning!

Jenny xx

 

 

Robin Hood: A Very Mini Medieval and Tudor Ballad History

I admit it- I had a lot of fun writing my novel, Romancing Robin Hood and my novella The Outlaw’s Ransom. Each project gave me the chance to take a self indulgent trip down memory lane, and dig out all my PhD notes on the ballad history behind the Robin Hood legend. Although Romancing Robin Hood is a modern contemporary romance, it also contains a second story- a medieval mystery which has more than a hint of the Robin Hood’s about it.

The earliest balladeers sang tales of Robin Hood long before they were written down, and audiences through history have all had different ideas of what Robin Hood was like in word, action, and appearance. Every writer, film maker, and poet ever since the first tales were spoken, has adapted the outlaw figure to fit their own imagination.

Lytell Geste

The Lytell Geste of Robyn Hode

 

The earliest mention found (to date), of the name Robin Hood appears in the poem The Vision of Piers Plowman, which was written by William Langland in c.1377.

A long ballad, Piers Plowman was a protest against the harsh conditions endured by the poor in the Fourteen Century. Not only did it mention Robin Hood, but makes reference to he outlaw gang, the Folvilles, who research suggests were an influence on those whose exploits wrote the Robin Hood ballads.

 

“And some ryde and to recovere that unrightfully was wonne:

He wised hem wynne it ayein wightnesses of handes,

And fecchen it from false men with Folvyles lawes.”

The Folville family were incredibly dangerous, influential, and had great impact on the Midlands of the UK in the Fourteenth Century. I’ll be introducing this family of brothers to you properly very soon; for they are something of an obsession for historian Dr Grace Harper- the lead character in Romancing Robin Hood.

RH and the monk

Robin Hood and the Monk

 

In 1450 the earliest single short ballad, Robin Hood and the Monk, was committed to paper, but it wasn’t until 1510 that the original story (Lytell Geste of Robyn Hode), was recorded in its entirety.

With the arrival of the printing press in Tudor and Elizabethan times, all of the most popular stories we recognise today were recorded for prosperity. Some of these stories had medieval roots, but many were were brand new pieces. The Tudor audience was as keen for fresh tales containing their favourite heroes as we are today. These ‘new’ tales included Robin Hood and Gisborne (c.1500) and Robin Hood and the Curtal Friar (c.1550) – who became known as Friar Tuck.

The Tudors loved the stories of Robin Hood. He was more popular then than he is now. Tudor documents are littered with mentions of Robin Hood’s all over Britain. For example-

– in 1497 Roger Marshall called himself Robin Hood, and lead a riot of 200 men in Staffordshire.

– in 1509, ten Robin Hood plays were banned in Exeter by the city council, as they had become a public nuisance.

Robin Hood’s most famous Tudor fan was Henry VIII himself. In fact, apart from hunting, eating, and getting married, Henry’s favourite hobby was acting. Sometimes he dressed up as Robin Hood. The king would wear a mask, and his audience had to pretend they didn’t know it was him, and had to look surprised when he revealed his true identity at the end of the play.

In 1510 Henry VIII and eleven of his nobles dressed as Robin Hood and broke into the Queen’s private rooms, apparently giving her the fright of her life! (Up to that point anyway!)

Thank you for letting me share a little of my Robin Hood passion with you today.

Romancing Robin Hood is available now on Nook, Kobo, Kindle and in paperback from all good retailers, including-

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Romancing-Robin-Hood-Jenny-Kane-ebook/dp/B00M4838S2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1407428558&sr=8-1&keywords=romancing+robin+hood

The Outlaw’s Ransom is available as a Kindle download – (published under the name Jennifer Ash, this novella was previously published as the medieval part of the Romancing Robin Hood novel mentioned above.)

http://amzn.to/2dr5ZPo

Happy reading,

Jenny xx

Seeking Perfection

It is with great pleasure that I welcome Caroline MacCallum to my site today. Caroline is here to give us a delicious taster of her very first romance novel, Seeking Perfection, so grab a cuppa and settle down for a read.

Over to you Caroline…

Seeking Perfection

By Caroline MacCallum

Thank you for hosting me today, it’s great to be here. Since completing a creative writing course several years ago I’ve enjoyed immersing myself in my imagination and the world of romantic fiction. Seeking Perfection is my second novel and tells the tale of a personal shopper who has grand plans to become a bridal wear designer. It’s full of sassy characters, hilarious exploits and of course a gorgeous hero. Here’s a bit more about it, and just so you know, it’s available for pre-order at the super-low price of just 99c/99p.

Back Cover Information

Emily Beach has a passion for wedding dresses—not wearing them, but designing them. She’s hitched her wagon to the stars and has grand plans to become the brand brides rush to when seeking perfection on their big day.

Until that happens, she’s working at a swanky London boutique. Her days are a whirlwind of wealthy, eccentric customers, and crazy, sex-mad colleagues. When dashing yachting-mogul millionaire, Henry, sets his sights on her, she gets a taste of the finer things in life, as he sails straight into her heart.

But does Henry really understand her need for independence, and her fierce determination to make it on her own? And did he ever really know her if he thinks she wants him to pull strings to get her on the first rung of the ladder? With the meddling of her wacky, energetic friends, she soon finds the answers to all of these questions, but are they the answers she wants?

Excerpt from Chapter One…

“There’s so much sex around here.”

“I beg your pardon?” Emily Beach wondered if she’d heard her new colleague correctly.

“Sex, so much. Here. It’s in the air.” Ralph flung his arms up and waggled his fingers. “Think of it as sparkling dust. Whoever it lands on wants to get laid or is getting laid. Can you handle that?”

Sparkling sex dust? What the hell kind of place have I come to? “Well…I guess so.”

“Good, you’ll fit right in then. That’s your desk over there. We haven’t got much space, but we’ve made the best of it. Go and get settled.” He slammed his hands onto his waist, cocked his hips and grinned. “Oh, and welcome to On Trend. May your time here be truly happy, prosperous and utterly satisfying, darling.”

“Er, thank you.”

“I’ve got to dash, so sorry.” Ralph glanced at his rose-gold watch. “I have a nine o’clock; don’t you just hate them? Inconsiderate wealthy people make me sick. Shouldn’t they all be in bed sleeping off champagne hangovers, or polishing their private jets?” He blew Emily a kiss, then strutted away, his neon-blue crocodile shoes tapping on the wooden floor.

Emily watched him leave.

Is he for real?

Head spinning from the fast-paced encounter, she turned and saw the only free desk was the one nestled in the corner of the fourth-floor office. It was next to a window, and past several chimney pots she could just make out the tips of the trees in Hyde Park. The only trouble was, the desk was flooded with white-hot sunlight. Soon she’d have damp patches on the underarms of her silky navy-blue blouse—which was a shame, as she’d spent a considerable amount of time planning the perfect outfit for her first day and she hadn’t intended on looking like she was stomping through the rainforest.

She set her faithful black leather Gucci bag on the desk and shrugged out of her blazer. Luckily, the window had a latch, so she reached upwards, opened it and let in a cool breeze.

“Hey, you must be Emily.”

A pretty girl with a long, curly blonde hair, heavy makeup and wearing a candy-pink and white striped dress smiled at her.

“Yes, hi.”

“So glad you’re here, I can’t begin to tell you. I’m Sandy, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Sandy.”
Sandy perched on the side of the desk in front of Emily’s and folded her  arms. The action pushed her ample breasts upwards, almost to overspill point. “I’ve been saying to Matt for yonks that we need another personal shopper. It’s all well and good having cashiers, stock managers and those people who do the sums at the end of the month, but it’s personal shoppers that sell the big-name stuff. We’re the fashionistas, we give the customers not just what they need, but what they want, we rake in the big bucks and we do it with flair and style.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” Emily paused. “And I’m glad you did—persuade him to take on more staff, that is. I was ready for a change.”

“Oh, why’s that then?”

Emily shrugged. “I’d been at Harrods for two years, it was time to move on—and to be honest, the hours here will suit me better.” Dropping ten hours a week meant Emily would have a couple of mornings to work on her own designs. They were beginning to sell now she’d set up a website showcasing her work, and word of mouth was spreading, but she didn’t mention this fact to Sandy.

“Ooh, la, la, Harrods! Is it really a den of bitching and incest?” Sandy rubbed her hands together and widened her eyes.

Emily laughed. “No, not at all, it’s very professional. A wonderful place to work.”

“And for monumental shopping sprees,” Sandy said. “So what department were you based in?”

“Bridal, but I went to women’s wear if they were short, and I did men’s suits for a while too.”

“There’s no shortage of men here looking for cool clothes to wear to the races, on their yachts, or to wow in the boardroom whilst haggling over their billions.” Sandy sighed. “Shame most of them are too old, ugly or fat to make the clothes hang like they should. It’s like dressing up a pork pie sometimes— no amount of garnish is going to disguise that artery-clogging layer of lardy gloop around the centre.”

Emily held in a shocked gasp. Sandy was obviously, like Ralph, the sort of person to just say it how it was. Already she couldn’t wait to tell her best friend Lynne all about her first day, and she’d only been on the premises ten minutes. “I guess as long as they feel good. That’s the main thing.”

“Oh yes, they always feel good when I’ve finished with them. I’m the queen of flattery. I could make a sloth feel like Naomi Campbell and a platypus feel like David bloody Gandy.”

Emily giggled. The office time at On Trend was going to be entertaining if nothing else. It may only have an eighth of the floor space that Harrods had, but still, it would make up for it in the shock factor.

***

Pre-Order now for just 99c/99p

Amazon

Amazon UK

About Caroline MacCallum

Caroline lives in the UK and uses her many years working as a nurse for inspiration when it comes to creating characters. She enjoyed walking her dog, cooking and painting when she has time. Look out for her YA novel Gabriel’s Angel which has a swathe of 5* reviews.

WEBSITE

***

Thank you for such a great sneak peek of your novel! I wish you every success.

Happy reading,

Jenny xxx

Bring it On…

There’s no need for me to say things like “2016 was just so awful….” Hardly anyone would argue that it wasn’t a pretty big disaster all round the world stage. So, enough said.

2017 now lays ahead of us like a pristine blank notebook, just waiting for the world’s storytellers to fill it up.

OK- so they’ll be more political chaos etc- but here in my own small corner of book land, there is much to look forward to.

For a start I have 2 brand new novels coming out during 2017 – one as Jenny Kane, and one as Jennifer Ash.

My Jenny Kane novel comes out in June, and will be entitled Abi’s Neighbour – the sequel of my bestselling novel, Abi’s House. I will have a cover for you to look at shortly (I’ve seen it already- and I love it!), as well as a blurb. All I can tell you at the moment is that the main characters, Abi, Max, Beth, Jacob and Stan, are still in Sennen Cove in Cornwall- along with a few new faces. And before anyone asks- no, I haven’t killed the dog. You’d be amazed how many emails I got asking me not to kill off Sadie, Stan’s Golden Retriever. As if I would!

My Jennifer Ash book this year will be a full length novel which carries on a few months after the end of the novella, The Outlaw’s Ransom. The new novel, The Winter Outlaw, will be out in November. It is that novel I’m working on at the moment. So I’m starting 2017 by doing a rewrite of the first draft of the book which will probably end up being the last publication of the year.

Along with these two novels, I also have short stories and a novella coming out under my adult pen name.

In between the editing and writing, I’ll be teaching as many writing workshops as I can squeeze into the days, drafting yet another novel (not saying what that’s about yet….), and taking on freelance writing assignments.

2017 is only a few days old, but it’s already shaping up to be one of the busiest yet, and after the publication of Another Glass of Champagne, The Outlaws’ Ransom, Jenny Kane’s Christmas Collection, and several other pieces for the ‘other’ me in 2016, I wouldn’t have thought that possible!

Happy reading,

Jenny/Jennifer x

 

Sunshine Dreaming: Returning to Abi’s House

What better way to start the New Year than to forget the grey cold days of winter, and look forward to a Cornish summer?…

I’m delighted to say that the sequel to my Cornish friendship and romance novel, Abi’s House, is almost ready, and will be out in the world in June! That might feel a long way away to you- but in novel writing world that’s almost next week! There are many bits and bobs to do to prepare a book in between it being written and reaching your eager hands. I should say at this point how grateful and humbled I am  by all the messages I’ve had about Abi’s House. It seems to have touched a lot of people’s hearts. I can only hope that Abi’s Neighbour will be equally well received.

Sennen

Abi’s Neighbour will follow on from where we left Max, Abi, Beth and their friends in the beautiful Sennen Cove, at the very tip of the Penwith peninsula in Cornwall. There will – obviously- be a new neighbour moving in next door to Abi on Miners Row. I’m saying no more for now- but there will be a cover reveal very soon…

In the meantime, why not hide from the awful weather and indulge in a little Cornish sunshine via Abi’s House.

Blurb

Newly widowed at barely thirty, Abi Carter is desperate to escape the Stepford Wives-style life that Luke, her late husband, had been so keen for her to live.

Abi decides to fulfil a lifelong dream. As a child on holiday in a Cornwall as a child she fell in love with a cottage – the prophetically named Abbey’s House. Now she is going to see if she can find the place again, relive the happy memories … maybe even buy a place of her own nearby?

On impulse Abi sets off to Cornwall, where a chance meeting in a village pub brings new friends Beth and Max into her life. Beth, like Abi, has a life-changing decision to make. Max, Beth’s best mate, is new to the village. He soon helps Abi track down the house of her dreams … but things aren’t quite that simple. There’s the complicated life Abi left behind, including her late husband’s brother, Simon – a man with more than friendship on his mind … Will Abi’s house remain a dream, or will the bricks and mortar become a reality?

 

Here are some of the lovely review’s Abi’s House has received…

A summer read as scrumptious as its Cornish backdrop. Brilliant!”

“This novel is a box of delights…the perfect escapist read…”

“Better than a Cornish Cream Tea…”

“Reading a Jenny Kane book is like opening a journal by a much loved friend…”

***

To pick up your copy Abi’s House in either paperback or on Kindle visit any good book retailer or follow these links

 
Happy reading,
Jenny xx

Where Did 2016 Go?

It’s that time again- not just another New Year’s Eve- but the end of the month blog from Nell Peters is here!!

Buckle up folks- and pass the whisky!

Over to you Nell…

New Year’s Eve! Where did 2016 go? But suffice to say, I for one am glad it’s now slithering its way into the archives!

Let’s start with the birthday line-up – on the starting blocks we have such luminaries as Donald Trump Jnr (OMG, there’s more than one?), football bod Sir Alex Ferguson, actors Sir Anthony Hopkins, Sir Ben Kingsley and Val Kilmer (no knighthood, Val? Well, if you will be born in the US …), late singers John Denver and Donna Summer, explorer (not watchmaker) Jacques Cartier (my ancient Firebird once broke down while I was driving over his rotten bridge in Montreal) and painter Henri Matisse.

anthony-hopkins

Most important of all, our lovely niece Francesca Cerulli celebrates her 26th birthday today – her dad has Italian genes (the name gives a wee bit of a clue) and she has benefitted in spades in the looks department, lucky girl. Not too good at cooking pasta, though … Just kidding, Fran!

sparkly-doc-martens

Right, before you get too involved in dragging the sparkly Doc Martens from the back of the closet, and preening in preparation to party, let’s see what has happened historically on this day, shall we? On the eve of the new twenty-first century, just as the London Eye was cranking into action for its debut circuit, Boris Yeltsin resigned as the first President of the Russian Federation, leaving the PM, one Vladimir Putin, to mind the shop – cheers for that, Boris, old chap. A zillion bare-chested, macho-man poses later, mostly accessorised by horses and firearms …

big-ben

I normally shy away from making any even vaguely political statements on social media, but the thought that after Trump’s inauguration in January, the world will have the Vlad and Donnie Show in positions of unassailable power, their fat fingers hovering over the ultimate button, frankly scares the bejesus out of me. Even the likes of Michael Gove, Ed Miliband and Nigel Farage don’t look too bad, compared to that not-so-much-dream-as-nightmare team.

trump

Moving on; NYE in 1857, Queen Victoria chose Ottawa as the capital of Canada (she wasn’t amused by Victoria in British Columbia?) The city name derives from the Algonquin (Native American) word Odawa – which, incidentally, is exactly how Canadians (or Canajuns) pronounce it, just as they drop the ‘t’ in Montreal and the second ‘t’ in Toronto – meaning ‘to trade’. Assuming HRH didn’t just stick a pin in a map, its selection was strategic as a border stronghold. Ottawa is probably the most British city in Canada in terms of embracing the influence, (though it’s still of necessity bilingual) and surprisingly small for a capital, but it’s full of superb Victorian architecture and brilliant museums. They even have Changing of the Guard (yes, all dressed in red tunics, with bearskins!) on Parliament Hill – but sadly, only from June to August, for tourists.

ottawa

In 1892, across the border in New York, Ellis Island opened its doors as the official immigration processing centre for those in search of the American Dream. (By the time it closed in 1954, 15m people had passed through – that’s an average of 220,589 a year.) How immensely brave folk were to sail off literally into the unknown, many with hardly more than the clothes they wore. Scientists believe that Homo sapiens first arrived in the US via the Bering Straits about 20,000 years ago, and these were the forebears of the many Native American cultures which would people the landscape for thousands of years.

ellis-island-liberty

Next came the Vikings – though not in huge numbers, so maybe not too much raping and pillaging – and eventually the great European migration began. (Just saying, but Donald Trump’s mother and father were of Scottish and German descent respectively – if only the ancestors of Border Control had been a little more on the ball regarding who made it through …) All of this long before the Statue of Liberty was in place nearby, to declare (courtesy Emma Lazarus – I’m absolutely not going to mention anything about her taking up her bed to walk!):

Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

Crossing the Atlantic for early settlers meant two to three months of seasickness, overcrowding, limited food rations, and disease. Eew – not exactly luxury cruising, but better than a ticket for passage on the Titanic, I suppose. However, the prospect of yours-for-the-asking land parcels and the hope of political and religious freedoms were pretty persuasive arguments. Among the early British settlers were indentured servants willing to trade four to seven years of unpaid labour for a one-way ticket to the colonies and the promise of land. Sounds like a slightly one-sided agreement to me? After seven long years of being a freebie skivvy, I’d expect to be gifted California, minimum.  There were also convicts among the newcomers – many thousands transported from English jails. And we always think of Australia as our go-to penal colony.

wagon-train

The merging of Europeans and Native Americans was not always peaceful (I’ve seen those John Wayne cowboy movies – wagons ho, or there’ll be heap big trouble and a few unscheduled haircuts) and cultures clashed, leading to violence and the spread of new pathogens. Whole tribes were decimated by diseases like small pox, measles, and the plague. And don’t forget how badly these usurpers behaved generally, riding roughshod over tradition, beliefs and land tenure. How rude! When I lived in Montreal, a friend’s old bat of a mother-in-law was slagging off the indigenous race as leeches on the economy, plus a whole lot of other things bad – and when I ventured to disagree (quite bravely, as she was one big momma with a viper’s tongue) she looked down her nose at me and said imperiously, ‘Well, you know, they are allowed to live on Reservations!’ Be still my heart …  This is someone born and bred in the second most French city in Quebec Province, where the official language has been French since 1974, but who never actually bothered to learn the lingo.

marie-curie

OK, enough New World ramblings – Marie Curie (the scientist, not the cancer care organisation that bears her name) accepted her second Nobel Prize on this day in 1911 for Chemistry, having shared the prize for Physics in 1903. She was the first woman to win a Nobel, and the first person/only woman to win twice. Kind of puts Bob Dylan into perspective, doesn’t it? Born Maria Sklodowska in 1867 in Warsaw, she was the youngest of five children of poor school teachers. After her mother died and her father could no longer support her, she became a governess, reading and studying in her own time. Becoming a teacher – the only route which would allow her independence – was never an option, because lack of money prevented her from formal higher education.

However, when her sister came up trumps (sorry!) and offered her lodgings in Paris so she could go to university, she moved to France in 1891. She enrolled at the Sorbonne (when I was a young and foolish student, I once spent the night there, sleeping in the mortuary on a dissection table – don’t ask!) where she read physics and mathematics. It was in Paris, in 1894, that she met Pierre Curie – a scientist working in the city – whom she married a year later and adopted the French spelling of her name, Marie. Her achievements included the development of the theory of radioactivity (a term that she coined), techniques for isolating radioactive isotopes, and the discovery of two elements, polonium and radium. Yeah, Bob, nice lyrics – AND Marie Curie turned up to accept the award.

farts

So, who is going to make a New Year resolution? There will be the usual suspects, like giving up junk food and/or dieting/eating more healthily; stop smoking/drinking too much; embark upon a regular exercise regime (that’ll last until 3rd January at least); stop wasting money on fripperies, yada, yada. I looked online and found a list of 100 resolutions – apart from the obvious, there was, stop twerking (7 – or start, in my case); quit farting so much (16 – I’m saying nothing!); stop playing Candy Crush Saga (28 – please note, those FB friends who keep sending me requests which I steadfastly ignore!); don’t buy the latest iPhone (32 – fine by me, as my mobile is a five year-old, basic Nokia); find Nirvana (38 – far out, man!); become more cultured (45 – that’s after you quit farting so much, presumably); drink more water (46 – why, when there’s still wine in Tesco?); quit picking your nose (62 – see 45); get a tattoo (66 – why?); keep a cleaner house (73 – again, why?); write more (76 – what’s this, chopped liver?); read more (97 – I wish!); become an expert at something (100 – like composing dumb lists?) I’ll leave it to you to extract the bones out of that lot.

Traditionally, on the stroke of midnight on 31st December, the English would open the back door to let the old year out, and ask the first dark-haired man they saw to come through the front door carrying bread, salt and coal. (Did he have to patrol the streets carrying that lot, in the hope of being invited in somewhere?) Symbolically, that meant that for the following year everyone in the house would have enough to eat (bread), enough money (salt), and be warm (coal). Nowadays, those of us who don’t venture out to lurk – freezing our socks off – in Trafalgar Square or similar to see in the New Year, or pay exorbitant prices to attend a formal function, slum it sitting round the TV watching Jools Holland and his cronies cavorting around the studio to present the annual hootenanny. There is a countdown to midnight, courtesy Big Ben’s bongs (nice alliteration!), followed by a rendition of Auld Lang Syne, often with the Pipes and Drums of the Scots Guards. All a bit naff, when you consider it’s pre-recorded.

cocktail-07

The Scots celebrate Hogmanay, the name taken from an oat cake that used to be given to children on New Year’s Eve – I imagine they’d rather have had a chocolate bar. In Edinburgh there’s a huge ticket-only party from Prince’s Street to the Royal Mile and Edinburgh Castle – the only year we were there, it was cancelled due to foul weather. In Scotland? Surely not! Those who stay home observe the tradition of first-footing at the stroke of twelve – ie the first person to set foot in a house is thought to affect the fortunes of everyone who lives there for the coming year. Strangers are supposed to bring good luck – except when they fill their swag bags and abscond with the family silver, of course.

New Year’s Eve is Nos Galan in Welsh, and whilst they also believe in letting out the old year and ushering in the new, if the first visitor after midnight is a woman and a man opens the door, it’s considered bad luck. Uh-oh! Plus, if the first man to cross the threshold has red hair, that’s bad luck too. I guess gingers don’t get too many invitations to parties, just in case they time their arrival badly. The Welsh believe you should pay off all debts before the New Year begins, or you’ll spend the whole of the next year in the red – maybe there’s some tenuous connection with those poor carrot-topped chaps being so unpopular? On New Year’s Day (Dydd Calan) Welsh children get up early to visit their neighbours and sing songs. They are given coins, mince pies, apples and sweets for singing – or, more likely, to go away. Shrill little voices warbling on the doorstep is not really what you need first thing, if you’re nursing a hangover from the night before. Whatever, this fizzles out by midday.

My job here is done. Thank you for having me again, Jenny.

happy-new-year

Happy New Year! Or A Guid New Year! Or Dydd Calan Hapus!

Toodles.

NP

Author.to/NellPeters

PS. I have mentioned before that Jen and I share a birthday, but we also share an editor, lovely Greg Rees at Accent Press. Since I wrote this blog – well in advance, as usual – Accent Press have reorganised, and Greg left in mid-December. I have so enjoyed working with him (he even appreciates my dodgy sense of humour!) and wish him every success and happiness, as he moves on to pastures new. I will miss him a lot, as I’m sure will all his authors. Yep, 2016 has been one rubbish year …

Sé feliz, Greg, y cuídate! x

(I second the above – Greg, you’ll be hugely missed J x)

Many many thanks once again to Nell for a fabulous blogs this year. And thank you to all of you, my lovely readers.

Happy new Year everyone.

Jenny x

 

A VERY HAPPY COFFEE AND CAKE FILLED CHRISTMAS

I would like to wish you each and every on of you…

A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS!

blue-christmas-2015-lights-missouri

Many many thanks for all your support over the last year.

I hope you are all having a truly peaceful and huggled Christmas, with extra coffee and a mince pie or three.

jennykaneschristmascollection200

Christmas at the CastleCITC- New cover 2015ACOChristmas- New 2015

The Outlaw's Ransom

Much love,

Jenny/Jenniferxx

Five years of coffee shop stories

I owe a lot to coffee shops.

With the exception of Christmas day, I go to a coffee shop at least once every day. I love them- there is so much life lived in such establishments. On a daily basis you can see almost every cross section of life’s challenges, joys, crisis’s, and smiles. What better place to find an unending source of inspiration than a coffee shop? They are the wine bars or pubs of the day time. They are social media away from a screen. They are live radio. They are soap operas without the dreadful unnecessarily for sensationalism.

Not only do I write all my stories from a desk in the corner of my local café, but I also have a job as a coffee shop blogger for the Phoenix Community, which specialises in prompting in dependent businesses.. Each week I travel around Somerset and Devon, visiting independent coffee houses. While I’m there I write, and report back on my experiences.

heapys-glastonbury

It is therefore not so surprising that I chose to write a series of stories around the comings and goings in a coffee shop.

On the 9th June 2016, Another Glass of Champagne, the final instalment of my Another Cup of…series, completed its journey from my notebook, to the bookshop shelves, via the desk of my lovely editor.

Following on from the novel, Another Cup of Coffee, and its seasonal Christmas novella length sequels, Another Cup of Christmas, Christmas in the Cotswolds, and Christmas at the Castle (which can now also be found together in the trilogy-Jenny Kane’s Christmas Collection), Another Glass of Champagne provides the last chapter of the continuing journey through life’s adventures, for Pickwicks coffee shop friends, Amy, Jack, Kit and their friends.

agoc

Blurb

A warm-hearted, contemporary tale about a group of friends living in a small corner of busy London, by bestselling author Jenny Kane.

Fortysomething Amy is shocked and delighted to discover she s expecting a baby not to mention terrified! Amy wants best friend Jack to be godfather, but he hasn’t been heard from in months. When Jack finally reappears, he s full of good intentions but his new business plan could spell disaster for the beloved Pickwicks Coffee Shop, and ruin a number of old friendships…

Meanwhile his love life is as complicated as ever and yet when he swears off men for good, Jack meets someone who makes him rethink his priorities…but is it too late for a fresh start?

 Author Kit has problems of her own: just when her career has started to take off, she finds herself unable to write and there’s a deadline looming, plus two headstrong kids to see through their difficult teenage years…will she be able to cope?

(Can be read as a standalone novel or as part of the series)

another-cup-of-coffee-new-cover-2015

I invented the Pickwicks Coffee House in Richmond, London, to appear as a cross between the coffee shop I write in everyday, the café I used to write in when I lived in Scotland, and a Victorian building in London I fell in love with some years ago.

Within Pickwicks, it is while Amy, Kit, Jack, Peggy, Megan and their friends are clustered around the coffee house’s tables, their hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee, that their problems are resolved- or not…

***

Extract from ‘Another Glass of Champagne’

‘My goodness, woman, you look like the proverbial beached whale!’ Amy grinned at the teasing smile on her former boss’s face.

‘Thanks, Peggy. I know I can rely on you to be ready with a huge compliment!’

‘Huge is the word, and you are more than welcome!’ Taking advantage of a lull in custom, Peggy followed Amy to where Kit was working, and pulled out a chair for her friend before sitting down herself. ‘So how long have you got to go now?’

‘Only two months, which is nothing like as long as I need to get ready, or even get my head around what’s happening to me! I have far too much to do before the baby comes, although we’ve almost finished decorating the nursery at last. I haven’t even managed to find anyone to cover my job at Home Hunters yet.’

Amy thanked Megan, Pickwicks’ chief waitress, as she delivered a tray of drinks and half a huge carrot cake for the three friends, before asking Kit, ‘I don’t suppose that lovely husband of yours fancies coming back to the business while I’m on maternity leave?’

Kit shook her head. ‘Not a hope. It did cross my mind after Phil gave up running Home Hunters that he might have withdrawal symptoms and want to go back, but he took to running the bookshop like a duck to water. I can’t see him ever going back. And he wouldn’t have the time, to be honest. Did I tell you that they’re so busy now, he and Rob have employed a guy to help them with their new educational courses at Kew?’

Amy beamed. ‘No, you didn’t. That’s fantastic! I bet Jack would be thrilled for them if he was here.’ Suddenly pensive, she picked up her cup, ‘I don’t suppose either of you have heard from Jack?’

Peggy shook her head as Kit said, ‘Not a word. I thought he’d keep in touch with you though, Amy, even if he went quiet on the rest of us.’

‘Paul says he’ll turn up eventually, but I’d rather like to be able to tell Jack about this bundle,’ Amy patted her stomach, ‘before he or she stops being just a bump in my jumper. I might ask him if he wants to be godfather.’

Kit nodded. ‘Jack is godfather to the twins, and although he’s a dreadful role model on the morals front, both Thomas and Helena have always found him great fun, and say that having a gay godfather is, and I quote, “Well cool”.’

Peggy had never understood the loyalty Jack’s two ex-girlfriends felt for him considering how appallingly he’d treated them both. She certainly wouldn’t want anyone who’d stood her up on her wedding day – albeit only in the role of usher – to be a godparent to her child, but she simply asked, ‘How long has he been AWOL for?’

Amy frowned. ‘It must be more or less four years since I last saw him, and about twelve months since I last spoke to him. It’s not so much being AWOL as missing in action. How about you, Kit?’

Peggy and Amy exchanged glances as they saw Kit staring blankly into her soup bowl-sized cup of black coffee.  ‘Kit? You with us?’

taunton-garden-centre

‘What? Oh, sorry, guys. I didn’t get much sleep last night, I phased out for a minute. What was the question?’

Peggy had noticed how distracted Kit had been lately, although instinct told her that she shouldn’t ask her friend about it yet. ‘When did you last hear from Jack, honey?’

‘I’m not sure, must be at least a year. That is very Jack though, isn’t it. I bet he’d get a kick out of the fact that we’re all back here wondering where he is and if he’s OK.’

Amy, who’d had similar thoughts herself, grimaced. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised – although I’d like to think that at his age he’s finally grown out of playing those games.’

Kit and Peggy laughed in unison. ‘No chance!’ ‘I assume he’s either still travelling around the world – or working in someone’s garden, using that horticultural qualification he got after Paul and I got married.’

‘Sounds possible, and of course,’ Kit let her inner storyteller go in a way she wished she could on paper, ‘if Jack has spent all the inheritance his grandfather left him, he could have got a job in the grounds of some posh house, had a torrid affair with the heir to the manor, and be in the middle of a society scandal.’

Amy smiled as Peggy divided the carrot cake into mountainous slices. ‘That sounds entirely possible, and I sort of hope it’s true! The boyfriend bit, I mean, rather than the scandal bit.’

Pulling her cake plate closer, Kit shrugged. ‘I’m not sure he’d risk another relationship, not after Toby hurt him like that. I suspect he’s reverted to full-on sleeping around mode.’ Realising she had sounded rather curt, she added, ‘I’d like to be wrong though. If he settled down a bit, he might come home…’

***

If you would like to find out how the Pickwicks crew tackle the joys and woes of life in their early forties, then you can buy Another Glass of Champagne in paperback, e-Format, and on Audio CD, from all good bookshops and online retailers, including-

http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Another+Glass+of+Champagne+Jenny+Kane

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss/188-7813436-7626710?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Another+Glass+of+Champagne+Jenny+Kane

You can find all the links to the Another Cup of…series by following the book links at the top of this website.

christmas-at-the-castle

***

Happy reading and Happy Christmas

Jenny x

 

 

Interview with LE Willetts: Cross Killer

It’s interview time! Why not take a break from all that Christmas shopping? Put your feet up to read my interview with fellow Devon based author, the lovely LE Willetts.

coffee and cake

What inspired you to write your book?

I think it was probably my first ever Scripture exam at school (and yes, I am aware that I am about to take the issue of procrastination to a whole new level).

“In your own words, describe the story of the Virgin Mary.” And so, aged about seven, that is exactly what I did. The only problem being that I wasn’t exactly a model student back then and as such, I couldn’t even recall who Mary was. Nonetheless, not one to be dispirited by my fellow students all madly scribbling around me, I promptly sharpened my pencil and began to write down my version of events.

I can’t for the life of me remember what I wrote (probably just as well) but the teacher, (who also happened to be a very strict and severe headmistress) seemed to enjoy it. In fact, she could barely speak through her tears of laughter as she subsequently read out my first ever short story to the whole class. (I can’t think why.)

I suspect that this was the defining moment that I developed a taste for writing. I clearly suffered with an over-active imagination and the inexplicable need to make things up and write them down. As a result, I even started to enjoy English homework because it was the perfect excuse to do just that. (I was also aware however, that using the words, ‘enjoy’ and ‘homework’ in the same sentence was a contradiction in its own right, so I never let on to the teacher that I was actually having fun.)

At around the same time, I began to send off submissions to young magazines with varying levels of success. (The most embarrassing probably being a [appalling] poem entitled ‘I had a little pony’ which was published in Pony Magazine.) I definitely never made an active choice to be a writer – the urge, it seemed, had simply chosen me.

Over the years that followed however, life started to get in the way. (Oh, how I bet Pony Magazine and their readers missed me.) I still wrote, of course I did, because it was as much a part of me as the organs that kept me alive. I wrote letters to my mum, emails, shopping lists… but then somewhat inevitably, I woke up one day and realised that they didn’t really count. Unless I did something about my dream (if that’s what it was), it was never likely to become a reality.

And so the adult submissions began (without reference to satin sheets and mirrored ceilings) and the success that followed spurred me on, but eventually I wanted more. I suspect that deep down, I held the belief that writing a novel would define me as the *proper* writer that I was always convinced that I would one day be.

For several years, I proceeded to enter NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). It became like an annual ritual. I would enter, only to realise halfway

through the month that once again, I was failing drastically to keep up with the daily word count and so I would give up. Then in 2014, I had *success at last* and by the end of the month, I had achieved in excess of 50,000 words of complete and utter drivel. After a lot of hard work and the numerous edits that followed however, ‘Cross Killer’ (which has had more titles than Henry VIII had wives) was born and was finally published at the end of April 2016.

cross-killer

Do you model any of your characters after people you know?

Any good solicitor would probably suggest that I have some form of legal disclaimer in place before I answer that question but I think that all writers probably inadvertently do this.

My *proper* job involves running a B&B on the coast in South Devon and I suppose without really even meaning to, I spend a lot of time studying my customers and observing their different character traits (and flaws). I do however have a sign in the guest breakfast room that warns all customers to behave or they will appear in my next novel so they have at least been suitably warned!

Thankfully though, by the time I am done and I have merged numerous people into one person, I don’t think many would recognise themselves in my characters (and if they did, I certainly don’t think they would publicly admit as much).

What type of research did you have to do for your book?

My type of research was probably good enough reason alone that I simply *had* to publish the book … at least then, if the police ever came knocking and confiscated my computer, I would have solid evidence that I was typing various alarming questions into the Internet search engines with good reason.

I do however often think that the modern day writer is a little spoiled when it comes to research. Presumably, in the good old days before the invention of the Internet, writers had to methodically make a note of any items requiring further clarification and then visit a library (assuming they didn’t know an individual personally who was an expert in the field) and wade through an encyclopaedia (I just about remember them) for the relevant answers.

I’m not sure that an encyclopaedia would hold the answer to questions such as ‘foolproof ways to kill your husband undetected?’ Or ‘best ways to dispose of a dead body without getting caught?’

Google does of course come with its own set of problems and much of my writing day tends to get lost scanning the Internet to the degree that more often than not, I can’t actually remember what it was I was looking for in the first place.

Which Point of View do you prefer to write in and why?

As a general rule of thumb, I prefer first person because it allows me to get into the head of my characters. Suddenly, I am living their life and am able to picture exactly what they are thinking or what they are going to do next. This passion and first-hand knowledge flows easily onto the page for me.

For example, in the book that I am currently working on, I really like my killer and I want my readers to like (or at the very least empathise with) him too. By writing certain chapters in the first person narrative from his perspective, I find it easier to give some logic and motivation to his actions that might otherwise simply be construed as evil (and a tad deranged).

First person story telling does however come with disadvantages and at times I find it quite limiting. Describing a character clearly for example (let alone honestly or objectively) can become very difficult and I sometimes find it hard to introduce dialogue into the narrative if the character is the one who is effectively telling the story.

Do you prefer to plot your story or just go with the flow?

I am definitely not a ‘plotter’. A little like their inventor, my characters refuse to be told what to do and so whilst I prefer to have a basic premise in mind, any detailed planning usually results in being a complete waste of time.

I prefer to fly by the seat of my pants so to speak and see where my basic premise takes me. The official name for my style of writing is a ‘pantser’ I gather, which I must admit is a relief. For one awful moment, I thought I was going to have to publicly admit to being a ‘panter’ (and so for the avoidance of doubt, I would just like to confirm that I honestly don’t make late night anonymous calls from withheld numbers.)

My mother once accused me of always doing things the hard way and so far as my writing is concerned, I think she certainly has a point. By not carefully plotting my story out in the first instance, I do tend to meet a lot of dead ends along the way. The re-writes etc. also tend to be a lot more intense because I also need to concentrate on time lines and so forth, which can sometimes be very hard to reconfigure.

That said, if I don’t know what my characters are going to do next or how the story is going to evolve let alone end, it keeps me interested. I really enjoy getting to know my characters better. Some of them are absolutely fascinating, not to mention great fun and I love discovering what antics they will ultimately get up to!

What is your writing regime?

In the ideal world, my favourite time to write would be in the morning because my head is literally flowing with ideas and I am definitely more productive after a good nights sleep.

Unfortunately, because I run a B&B, I am rarely able to utilise this particular time of the day. I suppose I could try, but I suspect that my customers might soon become a little disgruntled at the lack of breakfast because ‘my creative juices were flowing’ and so I just simply *had* to get the words down.

As such, I try to get some writing done in the afternoon if I have the time (although hands up, sometimes a ‘little nap’ wins on that front) and again, I will try to do some writing in the evening once my guests have arrived or whilst I await their arrival.

I have to be careful though. Whilst I can write some useful stuff ‘under the influence,’ I find it is also crucial to know when to stop. (The wine and the writing.) Many a time I have happily let my head hit the pillow, silently congratulating myself on the literary masterpiece I have just written only to wake up and wonder what on earth happened to my piece of genius… and how or when it came to be replaced with complete gibberish that was only fit for the bin.

What excites you most about your book?

Probably the fact that I actually did it – the fact that I actually finally achieved what I set out to do all those years ago.

Also the knowledge that having dipped my toe in the water, I know that I can do it again. And hopefully again, and again, and again. Also the fact that people are enjoying it – that is an incredible feeling and there is nothing more satisfying than being stopped in the street, or emailed by someone who just wants to say that they’ve read your book and how much they enjoyed it.

Without a reader, a writer can’t exist and so when you discover that they have gained pleasure from something that you have created from nothing… well, they should definitely be able to bottle that feeling!

lucy-w

BIO:

Sent to boarding school at an early age, LE Willetts grew up in a small town in Worcestershire. ‘We were like one big family’, she fondly recalls. ‘In many respects, we still are.’ When not tormenting the teachers, school holidays were spent tormenting her brother instead in the family home (also in Worcestershire, and formerly owned by legendary rock drummer Jon Bonham of Led Zeppelin).

In her early twenties, LE Willetts moved to Birmingham, working amongst others for KPMG (one of the worldwide leading providers of audit, tax and advisory services) and Williams de Broë (one of the oldest and most prestigious Private Investment Management companies within the UK).

‘I suppose I just got bored with being subservient,’ she responds when asked why she decided to jack it all in and go solo. ‘Some people are born to work for others… and then there’s the rest of us,’ she continues with a wry grin.

Having invested in the Birmingham property market over the ensuing years, in 2005 LE Willetts was once again on the move and leaving almost 30 tenants behind her, she found her new calling in life – running a B&B on the coast in Dartmouth, South Devon.

‘Reading, writing, walking (and snuggling) with my dogs and anything in support of animal welfare,’ she replies when asked what she most likes to do with her free time.

Published with Troubador, LE Willetts’ debut novel Cross Killer is available through the following platforms:

Amazon – Paperback

Amazon – Kindle Edition

Waterstones

WHSmith

Apple iBooks

Kobo

Direct from publisher

Or personally via her website

You can follow LE Willetts on Twitter: @lewilletts and Facebook: @lewilletts or via her blog and website.

***

Extract from Cross Killer

Shoes had always fascinated Rita. They were her guilty secret. The craving she never quite seemed able to satiate. Even as a child she had displayed an unhealthy interest, always remaining far more interested in the shoes her mother’s visitors would leave by the front door than the actual people who had left them there.

Hours she would spend online sometimes, checking out image after image of ladies’ feet. Fat ankles, slim ankles, mediocre ankles – all the while trying to decide what colour and style would suit her best. But nothing could beat the real thing. Experiencing first hand the feel, the colour, the shape and even the rich aroma of expensive leather so strong she could almost taste it. Which was why she found herself pounding the pavements that particular morning as she desperately searched for her next suitable pair.

Nose pressed up against the window for a better look at the shoes on display at Discount Daphne’s, the latest bargain basement store to spring up on the retail park selling everything from contemporary chandeliers and designer handbags and shoes to verruca treatments and adult incontinence pads, the staccato click of approaching heels grew louder behind her and she turned slowly to get a better look.

Loopy Lou. Interesting. Rita watched in fascination as Lou, complete with her headphones that everyone knew were attached to nothing, ground to a halt and stood motionless as she glowered angrily at a Mercedes entering the car park. Never in a million years would Rita have ever associated the mad woman who boogied around the parked cars to her very own special music with the elegant specimens on her feet.

Jimmy Choos. Rita prided herself on her ability to detect a quality pair of footwear from so many of those cheap imitations that littered lodgings the world over, and there was no question in her mind that Lou was wearing the real McCoy. The attention to detail, from the finely crafted straps to the minute metal buckles, was absolutely exquisite and she licked her lips in appreciation. Tentatively stepping as close as she dared for a better look, Rita was painfully aware of the trouble she had got into the last time. But it wasn’t like she was hurting anyone. She was only looking, after all. Just so long as she didn’t touch she’d be fine, and so determined not to draw attention to herself, she kept what she considered to be a safe distance as she carefully studied Lou and those sensational boots of hers.

They really were absolutely breathtaking and Rita felt the familiar desire to try before she decided to buy kick in. The urge to touch them, or better still wear them was immense, but some people could be so peculiar when she stopped them in the street to ask if they would mind. But what else was she supposed to do? Look at the trouble she had got herself into when she had last decided to dispense with the niceties and just help herself. Hours the police had held her until they finally seemed to accept that it was all just an innocent misunderstanding.

Rita crept a little closer towards Lou as she deliberated what to do, the memories of her ex that she had hoped she’d put to bed once and for all springing to the forefront of her mind once more. Rita had really grown to love her. She’d thought she was different. And she was different. She never nagged. Never pressured her into doing anything she didn’t want to do.

‘What’s mine is yours,’ she had declared happily when they had finally moved in together. Wasn’t saying that when she borrowed her favourite outfit without asking though was she! Rita felt the all-familiar knot of anger tighten involuntarily in the pit of her stomach. Nobody treated her the way she had done and one day, when she was good and ready, she was going to pay handsomely for that mistake!

***

Many thanks for such a wonderful interview Lucy.

Happy Christmas!

Jenny x

Page 43 of 61

Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén