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

Category: Romance Page 2 of 18

Opening Lines with Marie Laval: A Paris Fairy Tale

On this week’s Opening Lines I’m delighted to welcome Marie Laval, with the first 500 words of her romance, A Paris Fairy Tale.

Over to you Marie…

It takes me so long to write a novel that I can’t always recall what gave me the original idea for the story. I can however remember exactly where and when A Paris Fairy Tale was born in my imagination. I was with my daughter Clémence at the beautiful John Ryland’s Library in Manchester city centre. If you are in Manchester, this wonderful building is well worth a visit, by the way…

After looking at the various collections on display, I sat in front of a computer and played around with an interactive programme describing the world of illuminated manuscripts in Paris in the Middle Ages. From that moment on, I was hooked… It took me two years to write the story and to get it published. I can honestly say that had it not rained that day, and had I not popped into John Ryland’s Library and had my daughter not been so patient whilst I took frantic notes and muttered to myself like a mad woman, A PARIS FAIRY TALE wouldn’t have existed.

Blurb

Is Paris the city of happily ever afters?
Workaholic art historian Aurora Black doesn’t have time for fairy tales or Prince Charmings, even in the most romantic city in the world. She has recently been hired by a Parisian auction house for a job that could make or break her career. Unfortunately, daredevil journalist Cédric Castel seems intent on disrupting Aurora’s routine.
As Aurora and Cédric embark on a journey across France, they get more than they bargained for as they find themselves battling rogue antiques dealers and personal demons, not to mention a growing attraction to each other.
But with the help of a fairy godmother or two, could they both find their happily ever afters?

A PARIS FAIRY TALE is available as an ebook and audiobook on Amazon and various other platforms.

***

First 500 words…

I love Paris when it’s sunny and I love Paris when it rains… No, that wasn’t right. Aurora sighed as she pulled a tissue out of her handbag to wipe the lenses of her glasses. She had hummed the song ever since landing at Charles de Gaulle Airport. Why could she not remember the lyrics? She should know them by heart. Paris was one of her most favourite places, even if all she had seen of the French capital city that day were thundering grey skies, student protests and wicked motorists who derived great pleasure from driving into puddles as she limped by in her uncomfortable new shoes.

She glanced at her reflection in the mirror and dabbed the soggy tissue under her eyes where the mascara had run. Her mad dash from the metro station in the torrential rain had left her looking like a drowned racoon. What would Florent Maupas think? Not only was she late to his party, but she hardly looked like a respectable historian… or a stylish one, for that matter. Her cocktail dress was, like the rest of her clothes, plain and serviceable, and so rarely worn it smelled of mothballs no matter how much perfume she sprayed on it. Her only concession to fashion was the silly new heels she couldn’t wait to take off.

She slipped her glasses back on, and pushed the tissue back into her bag. Never mind what she looked like. Florent Maupas had hired her for her brain, not her physique or dress sense.

‘Here you are at last, ma chère.I was getting worried.’

There was the man himself. Florent Maupas – handsome, grey-haired millionaire playboy and owner of one of Paris’ most prestigious auction houses.

‘I am sorry to be late, monsieur,’ she said with an apologetic smile. ‘I got lost on my way from the metro.’

‘Why didn’t you phone? My chauffeur would have picked you up from the hotel. The weather is appalling tonight. Poor you…you are drenched.’

She tucked a wet lock of hair behind her ear and smiled. ‘ I’ll be fine. I don’t mind the rain.’

‘That’s because you’re English!’ His bewildered tone suggested that she might as well be from Mars.

Stepping closer, he added in a low voice. ‘Now, my dear, I must remind you not to breathe a word about the manuscript to anyone. It is vital nobody finds out about your real job here until your valuation is complete.’

She frowned. ‘Of course, monsieur.’ Who did he take her for? She was a professional, and as such knew that discretion was of the utmost importance.

He nodded. ‘Good. Now, let’s join our guests.’

She did her best not to limp as she followed him, even if pain clawed at her left foot so fiercely that she bit back a gasp of pain and dug her nails into her palm. Why didn’t she stick to her usual no-nonsense pumps? Whatever the shop assistant had said, glamorous high heels weren’t for…

Bio

Originally from Lyon in France, Marie now lives in Lancashire with her family. She works full-time as a modern languages teacher and in her spare time she loves writing romance and dreaming about romantic heroes. She writes both historical and contemporary romance and her best-selling Little Pink Taxi was her debut romantic comedy novel with Choc Lit. It was followed by A PARIS FAIRY TALE and BLUEBELL’S CHRISTMAS MAGIC. Marie belongs to Authors on the Edge and writes short stories for the best selling Miss Moonshine’s anthologies. She is a member of the Romantic Novelists Association and the Society of Authors. Her native France, as well as her passion for history and research, very much influences her writing, and all her novels have what she likes to call ‘a French twist’!

***

Many thanks Marie.

Happy reading everyone,

Jenny x

 

Inspired by…

On a recent break from my editing mountain, I decided to clear up the documents on my laptop – of which there are thousands. As I was deleting old blogs, I came across an interview I did several years ago, when I talked about the influence my Nan had on my work.

The inspiration of certain people in our lives can never be underestimated.

Here’s what I had to say about my incredible grandparent…

Although many people have inspired my writing over the years, it was my Nan, (my mum’s mother), who had the biggest impact on my work- or rather, on my desire to write.

A stalwart of the local WI; a poet, script writer and all round word lover, my Nan had a creative talent I could only dream of. Unfortunately, her own parents were of the mind that she should not put herself forward. That she wasn’t clever enough to go to university (she was) and that she should not put herself forward, but should stay at home and help with the family business.

Of course, as she was born in 1926, this was not a new, surprising, or even resented attitude. It is just how it was. My Nan was not confident in her abilities, and never really appreciated just how much people enjoyed her comedy shows or her dramas- but I loved them. I remember sitting, when I was ten years old, watching one of her shows, thinking how wonderful it would be to make people laugh like she did; just with the clever use of words.

I didn’t notice that I was following in her writing footsteps until I was in my thirties. That was when I accidentally wrote a short story (it came from now where and simply had to be written), which miraculously got published. That short story became the first of forty short stories, and now, twenty-one novels later, I’m still going.

One day I might be as good as Nan was. I just hope she’d approve of my books!

I wrote both Abi’s House and Abi’s Neighbour in her memory.  Set in Cornwall, they feature Sennen Cove and Penzance, where my Nan and Grandad had their honeymoon (and, coincidentally, where my other grandparents lived). There is a character called Dora in Abi’s Neighbour – and that is my Nan. She wasn’t called Dora- but if she’d been allowed to be who she had the intelligence to be- that would have been her. No question.

If Nan was still here, I’d thank her every day. She was an amazing woman, who did an awful lot for me as I grew up.

Passing on her love of words to me was a gift beyond price.

Happy reading evryone,

Jenny xx

 

 

Opening Lines with Richard Gould: Mid Life Follies

After a break in January, Opening Lines is back!

Kicking off the first blog of the series for 2020 is Richard Gould, with his brand new novel, Mid Life Follies.

Over to you Richard…

Thank you, Jenny, for inviting me onto your blog.

Although I didn’t set out to be categorised as a Romantic Fiction novelist, that’s what I am. In case people haven’t noticed, there aren’t that many blokes writing (nor for that matter, reading) this genre, despite the fact that around 50% of those in relationships are likely to be men. I think the lack of male authors is a pity because a male take on romance can provide fresh insights into the ups and downs of starting, sustaining and ending relationships. I focus on second chance ones, using humour to describe tragi-heroic journeys in pursuit of love, while struggling to cope with cartloads of baggage.

Mid-life follies is well and truly about second chances. Following the early retirement of Hugh, the male protagonist, panic sets in for his wife, Liz. All the old clichés come to the fore – feeling trapped, needing space, fearing ageing – and she takes flight from the comfort of the family home.

My first thoughts about how to cover this theme were centred on the humour as the couple compete for who can have the most embarrassing mid-life crisis. Once I started writing, I recognised that there was considerable poignancy and home truths to add to the humour.

 Blurb

‘When you look in the mirror, do you see someone young and vibrant like you used to be,’ Liz asks her husband, ‘or old and decrepit like you’re going to be?’

This question is the trigger for Liz’s decision to leave the comfortable family home in Cambridge after twenty-three years of contented marriage. A brisk walk to clear her head of the feeling of being trapped doesn’t work. On a brief escape to the seaside, a wholly out of character one-night fling makes things worse.

A baffled Hugh is left to figure out why his wife has abandoned him. Is she suffering a mid-life crisis? Is he experiencing the same affliction?

A succession of twists and turns prevents a restoration to the normality that the couple increasingly crave as their children, parents and friends discover that immaturity is not solely the preserve of the young.

“This tale of self-doubt, adultery and forgiveness is shot through with humour and compassion. A most enjoyable read.” 

David Lister, The Independent 

***

First 500 words…

Soon after my fifty-ninth birthday, a lifelong interest in reading obituaries took a perverse turn for the worse. I began to ignore the parts about inspirational achievements and headed straight for statements about age of death. A vague insecurity arose if someone had passed away around the sixty mark. I would scrutinise the photo to assess whether, compared to me, they had been overweight, balding, wrinkled or showing any other sign that they hadn’t aged well. That all important sentence citing cause of death was of particular interest. I was content if a sixty-year-old had been hit by a bus or murdered by a jealous ex-lover. A long-standing debilitating disease was reasonable too, but what I didn’t want to see was reference to those sudden things that imperil older people, like a heart attack or a stroke. Because that could be my fate next year, next week or even tomorrow.

I was neither ill nor a hypochondriac, in fact a recent annual check-up had revealed that I was remarkably healthy for a fifty-nine year old. Instead, the cause of my anxiety was that a mid-life crisis had been activated. I use the word “activated” because I’m convinced I would never have suffered one had it not been for Liz’s conduct. Men can suffer them at a significantly younger age than my own, but quite simply I’d never seen the need because I’d been more than happy with life – my family, my job, my health, my friendships.

I know the exact date when it all started: 21st July.

The eighteenth of July had been the last day of the academic year and my farewell to teaching at Legends Academy – I was taking early retirement. I’d worked there for almost thirty years, just two since the daft new name had been selected by the governors following a poll to parents that had produced thirty-eight voters out of a school population of over a thousand. “Where Legends are Nurtured” became the school motto.

It would take a brave or even foolhardy person to challenge my opinion that the school had never nurtured a legend and was unlikely to ever do so. Our most successful ex-pupils achieved their fame through notoriety. Des Robins was the City trader who didn’t quite manage to bring down the bank where he worked, but it was a jolly close thing. Dino Stringer made his fortune drug dealing, his fleet of cars and lavish mansion the envy of many in the locality. It all came to an end with a car chase around the M25 and he’s still inside five years after the trial. Hazel Broad, aka Flightchick, had some success as a singer, but being smashed on stage diminished her popularity with promoters despite raising it for her audience. Those in the staff room with some interest in her well-being indicated that now she was spending her time opening supermarkets. I’d had high hopes for one of our lads, a promising footballer, but alas, Shane Hughes got no further…

Buy link

e-book             http://myBook.to/midlifefollies

Paperback     https://www.feedaread.com/books/Mid-life-follies-9781839451874.aspx

Bio

R J Gould is published by Endeavour Media and Headline Accent and is the author of four novels:  A Street Café Named Desire, The Engagement Party, Jack & Jill Went Downhill and Mid-life follies. He is a (rare male) member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association. Having been selected for the organisation’s New Writers Programme, his first novel was short-listed for the Joan Hessayon Award. Ahead of writing full time, R J Gould led a national educational charity. He has published in a wide range of educational journals, national newspapers and magazines and is the co-author of a major work on educating able young people, all rewarding, but his passion is writing fiction. He lives in Cambridge, England.

Social Media

Website:          http://www.rjgould.info

Twitter:           https://twitter.com/RJGould_author

Email:              rjgould.author@gmail.com

Facebook:        https://www.facebook.com/richard.gould.14418 

Many thanks Richard.

Wishing you much success with your new novel.

Jenny x

A VERY HAPPY COFFEE AND CAKE FILLED CHRISTMAS

I would like to wish you each and every one 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.  Jenny xx

 

 

 

GOOD NEWS!

I have GOOD NEWS!!

For the past three months – since my wonderful agent secured the deal for me – I’ve been dying to scream out loud about this. And now I can!

I have signed a 3 book deal with Head of Zeus, for their Aria imprint!!

Despite my given profession, I find there aren’t words to adequately describe how important this is to me. I’m excited, elated, chuffed to bits, thrilled, nervous, apprehensive, over the moon and exhilarated all at once.

The novels that I’ve been commissioned to write, the ‘Mill Grange’ trilogy, fall into the romantic comedy/contemporary women’s fiction market. They will be written under my Jenny Kane pen name.

If you enjoyed Abi’s House and Abi’s Neighbour, then this series should appeal to you.

Book one – ‘Midsummer at Mill Grange’ – is due to hit the eBook and paperback shelves in summer 2020.

At the present time I am writing Book two, which should be published next autumn.

Located on Exmoor, the Mill Grange series is set in, and around, a Victorian manor house on the edge of the fictional village of Upwich.

Regular followers of this blog will perhaps notice that Mill Grange has a great deal in common with Northmoor House, where I hold an annual writers retreat (with Alison Knight as part of our ‘Imagine Writing’ business). Consequently, the village of Upwich bears a remarkable resemblance to Dulverton, on the Somerset/Devon border…

I will share more details about Mill Grange, and the characters who live and work there, in the near future.

For now, let’s just shout YIPPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE – and make some coffee. Strong coffee. I have writing to do!

Happy reading everyone,

Jenny xx

 

Opening Lines with Marie Laval: Bluebell’s Christmas Magic

Opening Lines is taking on a festive feel this week, with the help of the first 500 words from Marie Laval’s uplifting, Bluebell’s Christmas Magic.

Over to you Marie…

Thank you so much, Jenny, for your warm welcome on your blog. I am delighted to be here today and talk about my first ever Christmas romance, BLUEBELL’S CHRISTMAS MAGIC, which was released on 19th November by Choc Lit UK.

I would like this story to be the first of a series of standalone romantic comedies set in the same Cumbrian village of Red Moss, and I am already working on the second novel. I had the idea for BLUEBELL during a family holiday in Coniston, which is one of my most favourite places in the UK. I am not very sporty, and not the best or the fastest at climbing mountains. Last time I was there I really struggled up – and down! – The Old Man of Coniston, but I was inspired by the glorious scenery, the beautiful villages, and of course the lake. Near our holiday cottage was a very old farmhouse with strange round chimneys, which gave me the idea for Belthorn Manor where the hero Stefan Lambert comes to stay to forget all about Christmas…

I hope I managed to put across my love for the area, and that my very corny Christmas jokes – some of which my children and friends supplied, but others I was very proud to have made up myself – won’t put the readers off!

So, without any further delay, here are the first 500 words of BLUEBELL’S CHRISTMAS MAGIC!

‘There’s nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.’ Cassie repeated the words through gritted teeth as she drove up the lane, but it did nothing to quieten the thudding of her heart or loosen the knot squeezing her stomach into a tight fist. The keys that she had stuffed into the front pocket of her dungarees weighed cold and heavy against her chest, an unpleasant reminder of where she was heading. Belthorn Manor. The name alone was enough to make her shudder…

The jagged outline of the mountains disappeared in low clouds and mist descended on the patchwork of snow, dead bracken and pine forests covering the hills. Belthorn wasn’t even in sight and already the landscape filled her with gloom. She couldn’t feel any further from the cheerful fairy riding a feather duster that was painted on the side of her van, under the catchphrase‘Don’t let dust and grime get to you, call Bluebell to the rescue!’Today, Cassie was the one who needed rescuing…

The van skidded as she negotiated yet another bend in the road, narrowly avoiding bumping into the back of a Range Rover parked at a weird angle near the Sanctuary Stone. Another rambler who had ignored the ‘Private Road’ sign at the bottom of the hill, no doubt. She changed gears and the van lurched ahead.

Belthorn’s distinctive round chimneys soon poked out of the mist. Cassie drove past the rhododendron bushes and the pine trees that shielded the house from harsh winds, and scanned the grounds. No shadow crept across the vast expanse of lawn; no ghostly silhouette lurked in the ruined abbey nearby or shivered on Wolf Tarn’s pebbly shores.The only ominous shapes were the spiky branches of the monkeypuzzle tree reaching out to the sky like a giant stick insect.

The fist in her stomach loosened, and she felt her body relax for the first time that afternoon. Perhaps there really was nothing to worry about. She would open up the house, get the job done and go home. Two hours max, that’s all it would take to dust, vacuum and tidy the main rooms. Of course, she would have to come back when Belthorn’s new resident arrived in a week’s time, but she would worry about that later.

She took the bag with her cleaning gear out of the van and pulled the keys out of her pocket to examine them. She hadn’t been there for a while. Which was the right one?

She was about to insert the biggest key in the lock when the door was yanked open and a brute of a man stood in front of her, his broad shoulders filling the doorway.

In the blink of an eye she took in his strong, square jaw covered with stubble, the fine scars that ran across his cheeks and forehead, the misshapen nose which was bent to one side, as if it had been broken several times, and his slightly dishevelled brown hair that reached down to the ….

Blurb

A gorgeous new Christmas story from the author of bestselling novel Little Pink Taxi
A flick of a feather duster and a sprinkle of Christmas magic …
Cassie Bell is used to mess. Her cleaning business, Bluebell Cleaning, is well known in the Cumbrian village of Red Moss. However, now it’s almost Christmas and Cassie has a slightly messier situation to deal with than she’s used to.

She’s been hired to help Stefan Lambert, an injured army helicopter pilot who’s staying at the local Belthorn Manor whilst he recovers. Stefan resents Cassie’s interference and is definitely not looking for Christmas cheer. But Cassie prides herself on sparkling surfaces – so, can she bring some festive sparkle to Stefan’s life too?

You can buy BLUEBELL’S CHRISTMAS MAGIC as an ebook and audio book here from Amazon UK

Author Bio

Originally from Lyon in France, Marie now lives in Lancashire with her family. She works full-time as a modern languages teacher and in her spare time she loves writing romance and dreaming about romantic heroes. She writes both historical and contemporary romance and best-selling Little Pink Taxi was her debut romantic comedy novel with Choc Lit.

She belongs to Authors on the Edge and writes short stories for the best selling Miss Moonshine’s anthologies. She is a member of the Romantic Novelists Association and the Society of Authors. Her native France, as well as her passion for history and research, very much influences her writing, and all her novels have what she likes to call ‘a French twist’!

Please feel free to contact Marie on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/marielavalauthor/) or Twitter (https://twitter.com/MarieLaval1).

***

Thanks Marie – great opening lines.

Happy reading everyone,

Jenny x

Christmas at the Castle: Scottish romance and coffee

Christmas at the Castle is the third and final festive tale from my ‘Another Cup of…’ series.

This standalone story takes author Kit Lambert away from the comfort of Pickwicks Coffee Shop, into the beautiful Deeside region of Scotland…

Blurb – When hotshot businesswoman Alice Warren is asked to organise a literary festival at beautiful Crathes Castle in Scotland, her ‘work mode’ persona means she can’t say no – even though the person asking is her ex, Cameron Hunter.

Alice broke Cameron’s heart and feels she owes him one – but her best friend Charlie isn’t going to like it. Charlie – aka famous author Erin Spence – is happy to help Alice with the festival…until she finds out that Cameron’s involved! Charlie suffered a bad case of unrequited love for Cameron, and she can’t bear the thought of seeing him again. Caught between her own insecurities and loyalty to her friend, Charlie gets fellow author Kit Lambert to take her place. Agreeing to leave her London comfort zone – and her favourite corner in Pickwicks Café – Kit steps in. She quickly finds herself not just helping out, but hosting a major literary event, while also trying to play fairy godmother – a task which quickly gets very complicated indeed…

 

Here’s a tasty taster for you… Author Charlie, and her business woman friend Alice are in a café in Banchory, Scotland, discussing the literary festival they are trying to run. Charlie is convinced that Alice is holding out on her- but she doesn’t know why…

“…Charlie was convinced her friend was lying, but she wasn’t sure why. ‘Loads of Scottish towns have festivals. Come on, Alice, why did you choose here?’

‘It’s a beautiful place. More people should see it; although I grant you the festival is three miles away at the castle, so not everyone will come into the town itself.’

‘I can’t argue with the knock-out location argument,’ Charlie said, ‘but why really? Please don’t do the mysterious hot-shot businesswoman bit with me Alice..’

Not looking at her companion, Alice reached into her designer bag and pulled out a notebook and matching pen, and mumbled, ‘Cameron asked me to.’

Charlie’s cheeks instantly went red. ‘Cameron Hunter? He doesn’t live here anymore. I thought you guys were a thing of the past?’

‘We are. But I owe him. He asked me for help. He’s working up at Crathes Castle, running the estate management team. Tasked with bringing in new events to improve the out-of-season tourist figures.’

Speaking slowly, as if trying to get her head around a difficult sum, Charlie said, ‘Cameron Hunter is back? Cameron who treats me as though I’m invisible?’

Alice rolled her eyes. ‘He never thought you were invisible! Honestly, Charlie, I can’t believe you’re still going on about that. I thought you were paranoid at the time, but it was five years ago! And you wouldn’t want him now anyway, would you?’ She studied her friend more shrewdly. ‘Or would you?’

‘Not even if he was soaked in chocolate, but that is not the point.’ Charlie couldn’t believe Alice had put her in this position. ‘He made me feel small and worthless. I bet if you mentioned me by name to him he wouldn’t know who the hell you were talking about.’ Charlie closed her eyes for a second while she tried to calm the anger that was rapidly tightening in her chest. ‘We used to spend hours chatting while he waited around for you to beautify yourself, and yet the second you arrived he acted as though you two were the only people in the world.’

Alice raised her eyebrows. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, it was never like that. And it’s hardly his fault you got a crush on him.’ Shaking her head as if to dismiss a non-existent problem, like she would at work, Alice said, ‘The thing is, his job at Crathes is currently temporary. Cameron has to secure a profit-making event in the first four months of his job for it to become permanent.’

Crathes Castle

Charlie’s palms had gone as clammy as if it was the middle of summer. ‘But we’re holding the festival at the castle.’

‘That’s what I’m saying! Cameron couldn’t find anyone willing to run an event at such short notice so close to Christmas. Craft fairs have been done to death and it’s too cold for outdoor theatre. So he came to my company for ideas.’

‘The man whose heart you broke. The man you left without a word so you could go and be a big city success?’ Charlie couldn’t get her head straight. ‘Why didn’t you tell me he was here, or that it was his festival I was helping plan?’

Sensing that she might have pushed Charlie’s good nature too far, Alice said, ‘Because you’re my friend. You’re helping me, not Cameron. I need you, sweetie. My reputation is on the line. I promised I’d make this one hell of an event.’

Seeing the thunderous expression on the normally calm Charlie’s face, Alice realised she was close to losing the help of the person she’d been depending on most. ‘Please, Charlie! I’ve secured a top line-up of authors and no one wants to see them!’

Speaking through gritted teeth, Charlie said, ‘You mean I’ve secured you a top line-up of authors.’

‘Yes, well, same thing,’ Alice flipped open her notebook. ‘But despite that, this festival isn’t getting any local interest.’

Keeping quiet her thought that things not going to plan for once could do Alice a lot of good, Charlie had to agree that even though the posters displayed all over town proclaimed a line-up of bestselling authors that would be the envy of many established festivals, the situation was far from rosy.

There were eight main events, but not one ticket had been sold. The website for the festival was up and running, but no one had visited it yet. The Facebook and Twitter pages were in full working order, but the number of followers was lacklustre to say the least. People obviously had more important things to spend their money on so near to Christmas.

Forgetting her determination not to let her hair do its unruly impression of a haystack, Charlie ran a hand through its curls and let out a strangled cry of frustration as she got to her feet.

‘You’re right, you do need help.’ Charlie grabbed her bag and scarf. ‘I’m glad you’ve finally worked out you can’t always be a one-woman band. In a small town, you need lots of volunteers to run something like this. You also need to learn how to ask nicely for that help, rather than assuming one flutter of your eyelashes will do the trick.

‘Obviously, I won’t be helping any more. You knew that I wouldn’t be able to once I learned Cameron was involved, which is presumable why you didn’t tell me before.’ Without pausing, Charlie leant across the table and whispered, ‘You let me watch while you took what you wanted from Cameron, knowing I liked him more than you did, and then, once he’d fallen for you hook, line, and sinker, you disappeared and dumped him by text. I made a total fool of myself trying to comfort him. The relief I felt when he left was huge, and yet, fool that I am, I still missed seeing him around. The only good thing I ever got from Cameron was the plot to The Love-Blind Boy!’

Catching her breath, gratified by the shocked expression on Alice’s face, Charlie added, ‘As it happens, I don’t want this festival to fail. Too many hardworking authors are travelling a long way to come here.’ She scribbled two names onto a paper napkin. ‘These people might help, if you’re nice to them.’

Slamming the napkin onto the table, Charlie gathered her coat into her arms and walked away, leaving a stunned Alice staring after her…

***

If that has whetted your appetite, you can find out what happens next, and if there is a literary festival left, by the time Kit Lambert leaves London for Scotland, you can buy Christmas at the Castle from-

Amazon UK

Or you can buy it as part of the Jenny Kane Christmas Collection (which also contains Another Cup of Christmas and Christmas in the Cotswolds)

This can be read as a standalone story or as a sequel to Another Cup of Coffee, Another Cup of Christmas and Christmas in the Cotswolds.

Happy reading,

Jenny xx

Christmas in the Cotswolds: Choirs, mulled wine and a carpenter

Our second dip into my festive story collection takes us to Christmas in the Cotswolds  – a festive novella featuring characters from the Pickwicks Café. (Previously featured in Another Cup of Coffee and Another Cup of Christmas)

Rather than being set in Richmond, this standalone festive tale takes Megan, Pickwicks’ regular waitress, away from her day job, on a mercy mission to the Cotswolds…

Blurb

Izzie Spencer-Harris, owner of the Cotswold Art and Craft Centre, is due to host the prestigious Cotswold Choir’s annual Christmas carol concert in her beautiful converted church. Or at least she was, until a storm smashed a hole right through the chancel roof. Days from Christmas, Izzie suddenly finds herself up to her neck in DIY, with her last dodgy workman having walked off the job. She does the only thing she can … calls in her best friend Megan to help.

Leaving Peggy and Scott to run Pickwicks Café in her absence, Megan heads to the Cotswolds for Christmas. Within minutes of her arrival, she finds herself hunting down anyone willing to take on extra work so close to Christmas. It seems the only person available to help is Joseph Parker – a carpenter who, while admittedly gorgeous, seems to have ulterior motives for everything he does … With Izzie’s bossy mother, Lady Spencer-Harris, causing her problems at every turn, an accident at work causing yet more delays, and the date for the concert drawing ever nearer, it’s going to take a lot more than Mrs Vickers’ powerful mulled wine to make sure everything is all right on the night …cotswold-in-snow

I’ve always loved the Cotswolds, and was lucky enough to grow up not too far from their villages filled with yellow stoned picturesque cottages and stunning churches. For me, once I’d decided to take Megan away from Pickwicks for a while, the Cotswolds was the obvious choice of location. It is precisely the type of area I can imagine Izzie setting up an arts and craft centre, which- were it real- I have no doubt would flourish! I’d go there for sure. It has a café after all!

***

If you’d like to have a read, you can buy my latest novella from all good e-retailers including-

Or you can buy it as part of the Jenny Kane Christmas Collection (which also contains Another Cup of Christmas and Christmas at the castle)

Happy reading,

Jenny x

Fancy Another Cup of Christmas?

Today I’m kicking off a three day ‘dip’ into the Christmas stories which make up Jenny Kane’s Christmas Collection – Another Cup of Christmas, Christmas in the Cotswolds and Christmas at the Castle

Let’s start with the novella length sequel to my debut novel, Another Cup of CoffeeAnother Cup of Christmas!

Here’s the Blurb-

Five years ago the staff of Pickwicks Cafe in Richmond were thrown into turmoil when their cook and part-owner, Scott, had a terrible accident. With help from his friends, his wife Peggy, and the staff at the local hospital, he made an amazing recovery. Now Pickwicks is preparing to host a special Christmas fundraiser for the hospital department that looked after Scott.

Pickwicks’ waitress Megan has been liaising with the ward’s administrator, Nick, as all the staff who helped Scott’s recovery are invited are invited. As the problems of organising the fundraiser take up more and more of their busy lives, Megan and Nick contact each other more frequently, and their emails and phone calls start to develop from the practical into the flirty.

But can you actually fall for someone you’ve never met?

As the fundraiser draws closer, Megan is beginning to think that she had imagined all the virtual flirting between herself and Nick – he promised to arrange to meet her for real, but he hasn’t done so. Now he’s bringing someone with him to the fundraiser, and they’re just bound to be everything Megan feels she isn’t …

mince-pies-1

Deliberately short, so that you can fit a peaceful moments reading into your busy Christmas preparation schedule, Another Cup of Christmas can be easily consumed in one delicious ginger and nutmeg flavoured mouthful!

As an extra treat to warm up a Monday. Here’s how Another Cup of Christmas begins…

Chapter One

December 4th 2012

Having politely escaped her third ‘So what are you doing for Christmas?’ conversation of the day, Megan Johnson was retreating back to the counter when she spotted Pickwicks’ most regular customer sit up from her work and brush a stray red hair from her eyes.

Knowing it had been at least half an hour since Kit’s caffeine addiction had been attended to, the waitress swiped up the percolator jug and headed in her direction.

Without bothering to ask if it was required, Megan poured the steaming liquid with practised care, before taking advantage of the lull in Christmas shopping trade, and sitting down opposite her friend. ‘Going OK?’

Swivelling the laptop round to face Megan, Kit rubbed the back of her neck, ‘I’m sure I’ve missed something. What do you think?’

Pickwicks Festive Fundraiser!

Spoil Yourself With An Afternoon of Pickwicks’ Finest Festive Fare.

 In Aid of the Royal Free Hospital’s Spinal Ward.

Saturday 22nd December from 2pm.

Deluxe Buffet And Festive Fundraising Fun!

Tickets are ONLY £25 per person

Don’t miss out!

Book your place at Pickwicks Coffee Shop, Richmond – NOW!!

Megan scanned the poster. ‘Oh, that’s fabulous! I thought you were writing your latest novel.’

‘To tell you the truth, that’s exactly what I should be doing, but Peggy asked me to do some publicity for the fundraiser and I thought I’d better get on with it. Time seems to be dissolving. It’ll be the 22nd before we know it.’

‘I know what you mean.’ Megan started to collect the dishes left by a couple who’d just vacated a nearby table. ‘The next three weeks are going to fly by.’

‘Two and a half weeks!’

‘Oh, hell! Really?’

‘That’s why I want to get these done; otherwise everyone will be too booked up with their own celebrations to have time to come.’ Gesturing towards the kitchen, Kit asked, ‘How’s Scott doing out there, or shouldn’t I ask?’

Megan’s permanent smile widened further across her lightly freckled face. ‘He’s amazing. I have no idea how he does it. The temperature in that kitchen is tropical, and yet Scott’s still beaming that massive toothy grin of his. I’m seriously beginning to think he is physically unable to stop cooking! Surely he must have pre-prepared as much as he can for the fundraiser by now?’

Kit nodded. ‘He probably has, but Peggy is getting paranoid there won’t be enough food.’ Glancing around, checking that Megan wasn’t needed by a customer for a moment, Kit pointed to a fresh pile of abandoned cups. ‘If I clear those, will you have a proper read of the poster? I’m sure I’ve missed something obvious but I can’t put my finger on it?’

Kit was already standing up and taking a tray from Megan’s hands before the waitress said, ‘On one condition.’

‘Which is?’

‘I can check my emails? I’m supposed to be liaising with the hospital about this for Peggy, but we’ve been so busy over the last few days I haven’t had time to see if Nick has got back to me about how many of the ward staff are coming.’

‘Nick?’

Megan silently cursed her inability to prevent the involuntary warm pink blush that hit her pale cheeks, ‘Yeah, he’s the admin guy for the ward that cared for Scott after his accident.’

‘Nice, is he?’ Kit gently teased the petite blonde waitress, wondering, not for the first time, why someone as kind and pretty as Megan hadn’t been snapped up years ago.

‘I’ve never met him, but he seems friendly. Well, he does via email and over the phone at least.’

‘You’ve spoken to him then?’

‘There are loads of things to sort out.’ Megan, knowing that the crush she’d developed on Nick’s Irish accent was utterly ridiculous, turned her full attention to the poster on the screen before her…

****

christmas-pud

If you’d like to buy Another Cup of Christmas, it is available as a standalone read from all good eBook suppliers including-

You can also buy it as part of Jenny Kane’s Christmas Collection 

Happy reading everyone,

Jenny xx

Opening Lines with Rachel Brimble: Christmas at Pennington’s

This week, on Opening Lines, I’m delighted to welcome a fabulous writer, and good friend, to my site.

Why not settle down with a cuppa, and read the first 500 words of Rachel Brimble’s latest release, Christmas at Pennington’s?

Blurb

Gripping drama as Pennington’s department store prepares for a glittering Christmas in 1911, but a killer stalks the women of Bath.

Christmas sees Pennington’s at its most glorious, thronged with shoppers, its grand staircase and balcony adorned with holly, mistletoe, tinsel and lights. It should be the happiest time, but dramas are seething beneath the surface.

For Cornelia Culford, in charge of jewellery, a divorce hearing looms, where she could lose custody of her young sons to her overbearing and unfaithful husband.

For Stephen Gower, being head of security at Pennington’s is the perfect refuge from a tragic past at Scotland Yard. But soon the past will call him back, as Joseph Carter and Elizabeth Pennington beg him to help solve the murder of Joseph’s first wife, now that it seems as if the killer has struck again.

For Joseph and Elizabeth, their marriage depends on exorcising the past. But can it ever be laid to rest?

FIRST 500 WORDS…

London, November 1911

Stephen Gower clasped his hands behind his back and fought to keep his gaze steady on Inspector King’s. ‘I appreciate that, sir, but it’s for the best that I leave. I’ve explained—’

‘And your explanation does not sit well with me.’ The inspector leaned his considerable bulk back in the chair behind his desk and narrowed his grey eyes. ‘Those young women and Detective Constable Walker were murdered at someone else’s hand, not yours.’

Tension stiffened Stephen’s shoulders. ‘That maybe so, but it was me who chose to not immediately act on those women’s fears. I should never have sent Walker to investigate instead of going myself.’

‘And who’s to say your being there would have stopped what happened? It could just as easily have been you who was killed. The Board’s investigation into your accountability that night will be sorted out as quickly as possible. You acted accordingly and I’m confident the Board will echo my sentiments.’

Stephen shook his head. ‘Sir, I appreciate your support—’

‘But instead of biding your time, you come to me with the daft idea of working as a security watchman at Pennington’s department store. What on earth were you thinking by taking yourself off to be interviewed without waiting to hear what the Board have to say?’

‘I need to work, you know that. I can’t sit around doing nothing while I wait for the decision to be made of whether or not I can continue to work for the constabulary. My mind is filled with those murders constantly. I can’t eat or sleep. I need some time away from London. Some time to get my head around everything that happened.’

King rose to his feet, his cheeks mottled. ‘How will a detective of your calibre ever be happy wandering back and forth around a damn department store? You’ll be bored out of your mind within a week.’

Stephen stood a little straighter. He didn’t doubt the inspector’s summary was wholly accurate, but he had to get out of the Yard. Out of London. To stay in the capital, to continue working for the police, where memories and images haunted him, was impossible.

He held the inspector’s gaze. ‘I submitted my resignation over a month ago, sir. Today I leave. There’s nothing more to discuss.’

The clock on the office’s grey wall ticked away each second, and when the raucous cheer of his fellow officers rang in the distance, Stephen hardened his resolve. Undoubtedly, a criminal of some description had been apprehended. Most probably someone who’d avoided capture for a considerable time, judging by the continuing cheers and laughter.

Yet, the inspector did not as much as glance towards the door. Stephen kept himself still. He would not – could not – falter in his decision to leave. No matter what the inspector said or did next, for Stephen’s sanity, he had to go.

Today.

‘Fine.’ Inspector King raised his hands in surrender. ‘Go. But there is no chance I’ll…’

If you’d like to find out what happens next, you can buy Christmas at Pennington’s from all good retailers- including…

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/Christmas-at-Penningtons-Rachel-Brimble-ebook/dp/B07RC9R3JK/ref=sr_1_fkmrnull_1?keywords=christmas+at+penningtons&qid=1557909447&s=gateway&sr=8-1-fkmrnull

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/Christmas-at-Penningtons-Rachel-Brimble-ebook/dp/B07RC9R3JK/ref=sr_1_fkmrnull_1?keywords=christmas+at+penningtons&qid=1557909484&s=gateway&sr=8-1-fkmrnull

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/christmas-at-pennington-s

Google Books: https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=RlKYDwAAQBAJ&dq=rachel+brimble+christmas+at+pennington%27s&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwipwODrpNDjAhVkqHEKHX-HB28Q6AEILDAA

Bio

Rachel lives with her husband and their two daughters in a small town near Bath, England. She is the author of over 20 published novels including the Pennington’s department store series (Aria Fiction) and the Templeton Cove Stories (Harlequin).

In July 2019, she signed a three-book deal with Aria Fiction for a Victorian trilogy set in a Bath brothel which will feature three heroines determined to change their lives and those of other women. The first book is due for release in Autumn 2020.

Rachel is a member of the Romantic Novelists Association and has thousands of social media followers all over the world.

To sign up for her newsletter (a guaranteed exclusive giveaway every month!), click here:

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Website: https://rachelbrimble.com/

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***

Many thanks for visiting today Rachel.

Happy reading everyone,

Jenny x

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