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

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Edward’s Outlaw: Cover and Blurb Release

What a year it’s been for my ‘Jennifer Ash’ side!

Not only have I had the pleasure (the privilege), of writing a number of audio scripts for ITV’s Robin of Sherwood, I’ve also been very busy with the continuing adventures of Mathilda of Twyford.

Mathilda’s earliest adventure, which features in the first book of The Folville ChroniclesThe Outlaw’s Ransom – was re-released by Littwitz Press. The second book in the series, The Winter Outlaw came out in March. Now, after eight months intense writing, I can announce the forthcoming arrival of the third of The Folville ChroniclesEdward’s Outlaw.

Edward’s Outlaw will be released on 3rd December.

Pre-order for the eBook version of Edward’s Outlaw (Paperback link coming soon)

Blurb

January 1330: King Edward III’s England is awash with the corruption and criminal activity that his mother, Queen Isabella had turned a blind eye to- providing it was to her advantage.

Now, having claimed the Crown for his own, Edward is determined to clean up England. Encouraged by his new wife, Philippa of Hainault and her special advisor- a man who knows the noble felons of the countries Midland region very well- King Edward sends a messenger to Roger Wennesley of Melton Mowbray in Leicestershire with orders to work with the county sheriff to arrest five of the Folville brothers…including the newly married Robert de Folville.

Robert takes his wife, Mathilda, to Rockingham Castle for her own safety, but no sooner has he left, when a maid is found murdered in the castle’s beautiful guest suite, the Fire Room. The dead girl looks a lot like Mathilda. Was she the target, or is Mathilda de Folville’s life in danger?

Asked to investigate by the sheriff in exchange for him deliberately taking his time in the hunt for her husband, Mathilda soon uncovers far more than murder…a web of carefully laid deception which trails from London, to Derbyshire, and beyond…

***

After being thrust into solving mysteries in books one and two in order to save her own life, this time Mathilda finds herself in the role of detective. Word of her skill at getting to the bottom of crimes has spread. In fact, the only person that doubts Mathilda’s skills as an investigator is Mathilda herself…

 

I had a wonderful time writing Mathilda’s latest adventure – and setting up the background for book four. In fact, clues to book four (which I will be writing at the end of 2019), have been scattered through the lines of all of The Folville Chronicle novels so far…

Come back for more novel release news soon.

Happy reading,

Jennifer xx

 

 

Guest post from Phyllis Newman: The Vanishing Bride of Northfield House

I have a great blog for you today. Phyllis Newman is here explaining her motivation and how she satisfies her desire to kill…

Why not grab a slice of cake and a cuppa, and have a read?

 

What could be more natural than writing murder mysteries after a long career in finance and human resources? It satisfies in some small way my desire to kill someone!

I spent many decades at a large Midwestern university steeped in the various whims and vagaries of self-centered academics. As an administrator, I witnessed resentment, jealousy, fear, love, compassion, and hate (but no murders, fortunately! Not that promotion and tenure isn’t something to die for.) These emotions form the basis of all motives, the rationale for what we do in any walk of life.

Motivation is a theoretical construct used to explain behavior. It represents the reasons for people’s actions, desires, and needs. Motivation can also be defined as one’s direction to behavior, or what causes a person to want to repeat a behavior. A motive is what leads to all acts of love and devotion as well as every crime.

At the heart of every story you find motivation. Understanding one’s fellow man is essential if you are to write about people believably, for to reveal the rationale behind their behavior is to make them live and breathe. Real world interactions with people—especially those who are dealing with difficult situations—can yield a plethora of revelations about humanity. Every writer must search within themselves to find truth about their characters, and to reflect what they know, to write what they have experienced themselves. Yes, that old chestnut, write what you know! (It only now occurs to me that given the subject matter of THE VANISHED BRIDE OF NORTHFIELD HOUSE, this makes me look like a pretty creepy person.)

Motivation—whether to keep secrets, fall in love, or murder someone—defines the action in any novel but is most particularly important in a mystery. As a writer I must create events and portray thought processes that jumpstart and maintain the action. Without understanding what motivates them, your characters remain flat and unknowable to the reader. A connection with the characters is essential for a reader to identify with and appreciate the story.

 In this newly published novel, my main character Anne Chatham ends up in the English countryside typing scholarly manuscripts of an agricultural nature. What gets her there and into the ensuing intrigues is determined by the sweep of history following The Great War, the social and political upheaval of the times, and a rich tapestry of family lore, dark secrets, and forbidden love.

In THE VANISHED BRIDE, I believe I have delivered a fun-to-read ghost story. It is a creepy supernatural gothic tale with a spirited heroine, intriguing mystery, engaging romance, and spirits who make the action lively. The story is a mix of mystery and romance with touches of supernatural spookiness and gothic horror.

All the characters in The Vanished Bride are haunted, either by disappointment, the unresolved past, unmet desire, or guilt. They are motivated by the same desires, love, hatred, jealousy, and a whole panoply of human emotion, making them like people everywhere. This is a psychological thriller where the details unfold one by one, death by death.

Extract:

My dance partner bowed with the élan befitting a king’s guardsman and, with a little smile, took his leave.

I turned to Martha. “Mrs. Langtry, how nice to see you.”

She gave me a blank stare. “Have we met?” She balanced a plate in her lap littered with the remnants of an artichoke-olive canapé.

The other women, who nibbled on smoked salmon on toast, watched us closely.

“Yes, but it’s been a while. I’m Anne. I work with Mr. Wellington.”

“How are you, dear?” She looked past me into the crowd. “Have a seat and talk to an old lady.” She made a shooing gesture to the tiny woman in black sitting next to her.

The little woman shot me a look of disdain before vacating her chair.

Martha opened an elaborate fan and fluttered it before her face.

Feeling warm, I wished for a fan of my own. But what I really wanted was a mask to hide behind. The scarlet dress made my desired invisibility impossible. I scanned the guests and spied Thomas again, but not his brother.

“Have you seen the bride?” said Martha.

“What?” I asked, assuming one of the revelers was dressed as a bride.

“Just lovely,” said Martha. “All those flowers.”

I searched among the tumult of guests, both the originals and their doubles reflected in the mirrored doors.

“Eleanor has never looked more beautiful,” Martha said, beaming.

I was engulfed by a wave of pure pity. Martha was at another party in another time.

She eyed me with disapproval. “That dress, dear. I hope you don’t think ill of me if I suggest it is most inappropriate.” She shook her head. “Quite improper.”

I felt a stab of humiliation. My confidence wavered. But I called upon Eleanor’s supporting presence and decided to humor my elderly companion. After all, her suffering trumped any discomfort I might feel.

“I must apologize, Mrs. Langtry.” I bowed my head with mock contrition. “I’m a simple country girl and didn’t know what I should wear.”

She laughed. “There, there, my dear. Don’t be disheartened. No one’s looking at you, anyway. They’ll all be looking at her.”

“Of course!” I agreed. “Do you need anything, Mrs. Langtry? May I get you a glass of water?” I touched her hand.

She jerked away from me and snarled, “Don’t do that. How dare you touch me!”

My face stung as I looked about at our companions. No one seemed to notice that Martha was unstable. I said as softly as possible, “Would you like to go to your room? Lie down for a while?”

“Why should I? I’ll miss all the fun.”

I was wondering how much fun she could possibly be having when she turned to me, leaning close, and whispered like a conspirator.

“You forget,” she said. “I know. I know everything. I saw what really happened.” She drew herself up with smug hauteur. “I’m telling.”

Telling what? She might have been thinking of Eleanor’s wedding—or another event tangled in her jumbled mind.

Martha closed her fan. We sat in silence, peering at the assembled throng as they paused with the music.

A hush fell.

For a moment, anticipation hung in the air.

Then an excited murmur ran through the room.

All heads turned towards the entrance. Charlotte stood at the top of the steps. She was dressed as an ethereal moth. A shimmering white gown rippled across her body, falling from the high collar at her throat to the floor. Her hair was hidden under a close-fitting, beaded skullcap. A pair of gossamer wings with fluttering ribbons completed the effect. The translucent fabric revealed every alluring curve of her body, unaltered by any foundation garments. She looked like a silken goddess, lit from within by moonlight.

The crowd broke into spontaneous applause at her appearance, and Charlotte beamed a glorious smile at her adoring admirers. Cries of appreciation bounced about the ballroom like reflected light.

It was only then I saw Owen. Dressed like Edgar Allen Poe, he wore a close-fitting black suit with a silk bow tied loosely around a high white collar. With his dark, tousled hair and solemn expression, he most assuredly recalled the famous poet.

He stood at the edge of the dancers, his eyes devouring Charlotte.

Something inside me withered and withdrew. With Charlotte’s arrival in her diaphanous costume, I felt sure I looked garish and overdone. Whoever or whatever infused me with confidence had fled.

Perhaps this was just what she’d planned. Her image was that of heavenly angel, otherworldly sylph, ethereal sprite. Mine was smoking demon with my tumble of black hair and crimson gown. I might as well have been holding a pitchfork.

As I watched Owen, who looked mesmerized by Charlotte’s silvery figure, a young man appeared before me, extending his hand. I rose without thinking, without seeing his face, and we spun awkwardly about the floor. A jazz number gripped the crowd, and another man stepped forwards and pulled me into the circle of revelers. I moved to unfamiliar music, rocking and bouncing, ungainly and clumsy, back and forth and around.

Drums pounded and horns blared in propulsive syncopation. I continued to dance and dance, unable to catch the tempo. The beat of the music pulsed throughout the room, the rhythmical throb vibrating the floor, and we swayed and dipped through the whirl of sparkling color and grinning faces. I feared I was making a spectacle of myself, but felt trapped in the crush of dancers.

Charlotte drifted through the mob like a cloud, bestowing kisses, dancing with one admirer, and laughing with another. I heard a babble of praise follow her whenever the music paused.

Everything tilted for a second when a waltz seized the room and rolled over the dancers. Another man took my hand and we eddied and swirled, round and round. Yet another man cut in. I hardly acknowledged my partners, barely felt their hand in mine, the other resting at my waist.

 *** 

Bio:

Phyllis M. Newman is a native southerner. Born in New Orleans, she spent formative years in Florida, Iowa, Mississippi, and on a dairy farm in Ross Country, Ohio. After a long career in finance and human resources at The Ohio State University, she turned her attention to writing fiction. She published a noir mystery, “Kat’s Eye” in 2015, and “The Vanished Bride of Northfield House” in 2018. Today she lives in Columbus, Ohio with her husband and three perpetually unimpressed cats, ghost watchers all.

You may contact/follow/like her at www.readphyllismnewman.com, or Facebook  https://facebook.com/ReadPhyllisMNewman/  ; or Twitter @phyllismnewman2

Readers can find The Vanished Bride of Northfield House at Amazon.com/co.uk, Kindle, and Barnes & Noble

Buy link:    http://www.amazon.com/dp/1939403456

British buy link:  https://goo.gl/uU5QBC

***

Thanks for such a great blog Phyllis,

Happy reading everyone,

Jenny xx

The Folville Chronicles 1: The Outlaw’s Ransom

With the third book in The Folvilles Chronicles series only days  away from being sent to my editor for proofing, I thought it high time we took a look back at Book One in the series: The Outlaw’s Ransom

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

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

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

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

Here’s a little extract for you…

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

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

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

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

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

 

You can buy The Outlaw’s Ransom for your Kindle or as a paperback from-

Kindle-

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

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

Paperback-

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

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

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

If you enjoy Mathilda’s first adventure, then you can rad more in The Winter Outlaw (The Folville Chronicles- Book 2), and Edward’s Outlaw (The Folville Chronicles- Book 3), which will be out later this year.

***

Happy reading,

Jen xx

Opening Lines: Vengeance by Roger A. Price

It’s that time again! Opening Lines blog day is upon us. This week I’m welcoming Roger A. Price to my place, with the first 500 words of his crime thriller, Vengeance.

Over to you Roger…

I’m thrilled to a guest on Jenny’s Opening Lines blog which serves as such a great opportunity for authors and readers alike, and I can only thank her for all the work that running her blog must entail. I’m an ex-detective from a CID and Specialist Ops background who can’t really talk about what I did, but love to use those experiences to drive my pen. Authentic, gritty and pacy, my novels don’t  let you rest for too long, hopefully. I hope you enjoy the opening to Vengeance, and thanks again to Jenny for having me stop by.

First 500 words

Chapter One

Jack Quintel didn’t need to be here, he’d requested his usual proof of death, but as he hadn’t used this killer before, he wanted to see it for himself. It took him a while to find a spot among the trees, and he was conscious of not flattening too many bluebells that were everywhere at this time of year. He knew the killer Charlie was no mug, nor was the target, Jim Reedly. If all went well Quintel planned to use Charlie again. The last thing he wanted was for him to realise he’d been here checking up on him; after all, he’d asked for his normal, if not unusual, evidence that the job had been done. He just wanted to satisfy himself, and watch the killer’s craft. Enjoy the show.

It was starting to go dusk so that would help; he just hoped Reedly wasn’t late home and it became too dark – he knew that wouldn’t bother Charlie, but he was beginning to wish he’d brought a pair of night-vison glasses.  It took a couple of minutes to settle himself as he took in the surroundings. The house was a fairly new build, but a grand affair nonetheless, detached in its own grounds with a tree-lined private driveway – the privileges of rank. Its location was handy though, Fulwood was an established district of Preston and had more than its share of such houses – especially on the eastern side of the city where a lot of the newer builds were situated. It wasn’t far away from the industrial unit Quintel had hired, or had had hired for him. That was in a traditional brown field estate behind a newish built Asda supermarket. Perfect; as it backed onto the M6 motorway. Quintel always liked an emergency egress from anywhere he used; he was cautious, he had to be.

Quintel passed the time trying to fathom out where Charlie would be. He guessed somewhere where the car would stop, somewhere near the house-front. He could see a turn-around in front of the property which would seem to be the obvious place, but he couldn’t see Charlie, which wasn’t entirely surprising, given the circumstances. He just hoped his suspicions were ill-founded; it was not that easy finding a good assassin. You couldn’t just type ‘killer wanted to join enthusiastic team’ into an internet search engine, well, not without a world of trouble landing on you. It was just that he had learned long ago not to ignore his hunches; he wouldn’t have reached his forties if he had.  The setting sun was dropping behind him now so he made sure he had good cover behind the oak trees. A peaceful vista, which was about to be shattered…

***

Blurb

Jack Quintel is a hit man. When a job comes in to kill the Deputy Chief Constable of the Greater Manchester Police Jim Reedly, he contracts it out to a new guy, Charlie Parker…
Watching in the shadows, Quintel sees Parker shoot out Reedly’s windscreen, then drag him into the woods and thinks the job’s been done.
But when Parker tries to pass off a pig’s heart as Reedly’s, things start to go very wrong. Jack’s right hand man Jason kills Charlie, who it turns out is an undercover police officer.
Detective Vinnie Palmer is with the Preston police. He was called in when they received the information about the impending hit.
Now he has to figure out how to clean up the mess.
And he wants whoever killed Parker bad. He finds the man who put Parker in touch with Quintel, a low life hood named Dempter, living in an estate in Preston.
He doesn’t know much, but motivated by money, agrees to be an informant for the police.
Christine Jones is a TV reporter. She and Vinnie had worked together before, chasing a serial killer.
They meet again at the warehouse where Charlie was killed, and realise their relationship could be more than professional.
But first, Christine wants to know what’s happening. Christine is working on a documentary about positive discrimination against non-Catholic officers in Northern Ireland since the peace process. She makes contact with a former police officer in Northern Belfast named Paul Bury, who feeds her some of the information she needs.
Meanwhile, as the bodies start to pile up in Preston, there’s another attempt on Reedly’s life, when a grenade is thrown at him at his brother-in-law’s funeral.
As Vinnie fights to keep Reedly alive, suddenly Christine’s life is in danger.
And they both start to wonder if the contract against Reedly has anything to do with her documentary on Northern Ireland. But how could it?
Filled with twists and turns and gritty detail, Vengeance is must read for crime fans everywhere.

***

LINKS:

Amazon UK Author Page: https://goo.gl/h2IYX8

Amazon UK for Vengeance: https://goo.gl/oxy9BI

Amazon US Author Page: https://goo.gl/tqFi0h

Amazon US for Vengeance: https://goo.gl/NSeSZi

Roger’s Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/CrimethillersbyRogerAPrice/

Roger’s Twitter:  https://twitter.com/RAPriceAuthor

Roger’s website: www.rogerapriceauthor.com

Bio

Roger spent thirty years in the police retiring as a detective inspector in charge of a covert undercover drugs unit which received national acclaim, before turning to the pen. His first two novels – By Their Rules, and A New Menace – are in their own series driven from the covert side of crime and his ‘Badge and the Pen’ series is too but with normal investigative fiction thrown in as well.

Vengeance is the second in this series which stars maverick DI Vinnie Palmer and his sidekick, investigative TV news reporter, Christine Jones. They are unlikely bedfellows, which makes their relationship interesting as they chase dark forces which only become even darker.

The third book in this series – Hidden – is written and will hopefully be next year. Roger’s novels can be read in any order as they work well as standalones too.

Roger is also developing an original TV drama script and is planning to adapt some of his existing novels into script too.

***

 

Many thanks Roger. Great opener.

Don’t forget to come out next week for some opening lines from Gilli Allan.

Happy reading,

Jenny x

Opening Lines: Slamming Doors by Natalie Dawn

Natalie Dawn is this week’s guest on my ‘Opening Lines’ blog.

I’m delighted to present you with the first 500 words (exactly) of Natalie’s crime thriller, Slamming Doors, the first of three books in ‘The Retribution Series.’

First 500 words…

FLASHBACK_AGED 34

‘I know there was a gun.’ Selena spooned the sweet sugary froth from the surface of her cappuccino, watching her best friend’s face intently.

‘A gun?’ Kara gasped as she leant forward to place her mug on the low glass coffee table.

Selena nodded, sipping cautiously from her cup, disappointed to find the liquid bitter beneath the seductive milky cloud, leaving a stale coating on her tongue.

‘I didn’t tell you about the gun before..?’ Selena frowned at Kara in surprise. ‘I’ve been getting these flashbacks about that night, but as the memories merge together, I forget what’s come to me recently and which bits I’ve known all along. Is the gun new?’

‘You’re damn right the gun is new!’ Kara gushed. ‘You never mentioned a gun before! Did Joel threaten you!?’

‘No! Not at all. In fact, it was Joel who was being threatened.’

‘Hmph,’ Kara retorted, helping herself to a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the sofa between them. ‘They should have pulled the bloody trigger.’

Selena had to stop herself from reprimanding Kara. She found it a struggle every time they met up and the conversation inevitably wandered back to Joel. It wasn’t that Selena was protecting him, like she used to – just that she hated any incitement of violence, always had. But she didn’t want Kara to misread it as some misplaced loyalty to Joel, so she swallowed it down.

‘So you’re in this dodgy Thai bar and a guy pulls a gun on Joel – then what?’ Kara shrugged.

‘No, you’ve got it all wrong. That wasn’t how it happened at all.’

‘So tell me. It’s been years – I’ve forgotten how it all went. And who knows how many memories you may have restored since then?’

Kara was right – it had been four years since they’d met up in that little Italian in Bayswater for their regular after-work girly catch-up – which actually happened to be anything but regular, because it was the week after Selena had left Joel and the day Selena finally revealed all of the horrors Joel had subjected her to. The memories of that night in Thailand had featured heavily, but neither of them could now remember exactly what they had discussed amidst the emotional chaos of the separation.

‘From what I remember, your recollections of that night were pretty sketchy. In honesty, I don’t think there really was an actual story. It was all a bit vague….’

‘There is definitely a story,’ Selena confirmed.

‘Then maybe you’ve remembered a lot more since you first told me,’ Kara prompted.

‘It does seem to be coming back in patches. I’m not sure I want to remember it all.’

‘I think I was so overwhelmed by the horrid bit, that I’ve forgotten the details…’ Kara wriggled as she recalled it ‘you know the really horrible bit…’

Selena nodded mournfully that she understood.

‘I still can’t believe he did that to you.’ Kara held her face in her hands…

***

Blurb

Selena Delano never reported her ex-husband, Joel, for sexually attacking her.

Five years on, Selena is content in her new life and determined to protect her young family from the shame of her past.

Despite this, she feels compelled to track down Joel’s new girlfriend in a bid to prevent her from becoming his next victim…

***

‘Slamming Doors’ is available on Amazon Kindle and Paperback: https://t.co/CI26k6tjLq

***

Bio

Natalie Dawn is a graduate of Drama and Theatre, a Mother to two young children and a self-confessed chocoholic. After the beautiful chaos of every day, when the children are finally asleep, she writes Domestic Noir novels (and gets very little sleep herself..!)

Slamming Doors is Natalie’s third novel but the first she felt could brave it alone in the big wide world. Natalie works as an Assessor for Building Sustainability and is currently querying her fourth – and most recent – novel with agents, whilst penning her fifth….

‘Slamming Doors’ is available on Amazon Kindle and Paperback: https://t.co/CI26k6tjLq

Follow Natalie Dawn on Twitter @NatalieNovelist  and on Facebook: Natalie Dawn

***

Thanks Natalie!

Come back next week for the first 500 words from a novel by Tracey Norman.

Happy reading,

Jenny x

 

Interview with Kerry Watts: Into Darkness

It’s interview time. This week I’m chatting to Kerry Watts about her serial killer inspired story, Into Darkness

What inspired you to write your book?

For as long as I can remember I’ve had a bizarre fascination with serial killers. I wanted to write a book that delves into the mind and behavior of one of the most well known of these. Ted Bundy’s behavior and crimes have both intrigued and terrified me in equal measure. The character, Paul Gregory, from Into Darkness, is like Bundy in many ways. I wanted to write a book that I would like to read.

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

The research for Into Darkness by spending a seriously long time watching footage of interviews Bundy gave over the years before his execution. I looked for his every mannerism and movement to get an idea of what he was saying non-verbally because what he expressed verbally was in no way the whole story. Another good form of research is to interact with friends on social media to grasp how far to push the boundaries in my writing. There are some topics I would never entertain.

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

I’m a storyteller rather than a wordsmith, so I find my default setting to be third person past narrative. It feels more natural to me. Perhaps it’s the gossip in me that makes that easy!

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

I begin with a plot in several notebooks sometimes, but I do tend to wander because other ideas and scenarios hit me later. Characters have even died unexpectedly on me. The buzz of a new idea is so exciting and if I can’t get my hands on a notebook to scribble in it’s uncomfortable. I need to write. Writing makes happy. It’s an escape.

What is your writing regime?

My writing day pretty much plays out like this. My son goes to school, I make my own breakfast and usually watch something like ‘Most Haunted’ while I eat. (The temptation to binge watch it is hard to resist at times.) I then check my social media which can sometimes be hard to tear myself away from. I will promote some of my books before putting kettle on again for my 4th cup of tea. It is with this tea in hand I start the day’s writing, which is approximately 2000 words, but that target is not set in stone. I prefer to aim for 10000 words a week. Sometimes I write more. Sometimes I write less.

What excites you the most about your book?

The other aspect of Into Darkness that excites me is the romance element. This is book one of my DI Joe Barber series and it is in this book he meets the love of his life. No spoilers but their introduction to each other is definitely not conventional. The book does have several adult scenes, but these are necessary to evolve the relationship towards the shocking conclusion.

If you were stranded on a desert island with three other people, fictional or real, who would they be and why?

The first person would be my 11-year-old son for sure. He has the craziest sense of humour and personality. He is a young actor and gaining a following on Instagram, so he could post our exploits on the island I’m sure. The second person would be the character Dexter Morgan because he is the best fictional character ever created. I guess my fascination for serial killers makes him appeal to me. The final person would not be a person but a horse. The race horse Secretariat. Being able to spend time in his company would be awesome as my other obsession is horse racing.

Anything else you’d like to share with us?

I have a secret! I write erotic romance fiction under a pen name. Ssh! I also once tried acting but found it wasn’t for me. Film totally bombed anyway!

Links

http://mybook.to/intodarkness

twitter.com/@Denmanisfab

https://www.facebook.com/KerryWattsAuthor/

http://kerrywatts.simplesite.com/

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Kerry-Watts/e/B01F7D6T5E/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

Bio

Kerry Watts was born and raised in Perth and can still be found living in rural Perthshire with her family. She also shares her home with an elderly Border Collie named Misty, a hamster named Buttercup and Domino, her orange Rex house rabbit who is more trouble than a naughty puppy.

She was inspired to pick up a pen and begin scribbling after reading Isla Dewar’s novel, Giving up on ordinary, when she devoured it and thought ‘I quite fancy doing that’ – so she did. She’s been writing for over twenty years but only began sharing her work two years ago. Writers who have inspired her since have been Jeff Lindsay, the creator of her favourite fictional character, Dexter Morgan and Stephen King. She listens to loud nineteen eighties rock when she is writing and for that she is unashamed. She loves Heart, Vixen and Richard Marx among others and wonders where the skinny rock chick she once was went to. She loves going to comedy gigs and binge watching episodes of her favourite shows on Netflix. She also loves dunking digestive biscuits in a sweet tasty brew.

She once tried her hand at acting but it wasn’t for her. She prefers to create the characters rather than be them. When she’s not writing she loves spending time on her other passions which are Rescue dogs and Horseracing. She has been involved with a couple of dog rescue charities over the years and is a passionate advocate of the adoption of unwanted dogs. Racehorses stir her soul and the sight of a thoroughbred thundering down the track at over forty miles an hour brings a lump to her throat and tears to her eyes. One day she is going to buy a Racehorse and call him Dexter King.

Her years as a psychiatric nurse and her experiences there often find a place in her books. Forensic psychiatry being her main field of interest. She loves to push the boundaries of the nature versus nurture debate. She wants her readers to question their previous perceptions of what and who is good and evil.

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Many thanks for dropping by today, Kerry,

Happy reading,

Jenny x

 

 

 

Opening Lines: A Few Bad Boys by Nicole

Opening Lines day is here! This week’s blog takes us into the world of hard boiled crime.

I’m delighted to welcome Nicole, to share the first 500 words (exactly) of her novel, A Few Bad Boys.

I am thrilled to be part of the Opening Lines Blog and am introducing you to my debut crime novel, A Few Bad Boys., which I published last year.  Like so many others, I had wanted to write a book for a long as I can remember and finally I achieved it.  My next novel, Survival At Any Cost will be published later this year.  After the sudden death of my husband, I found getting back to writing very therapeutic amongst the chaos that surrounded me.  People often find me an inspiration and I encourage anyone that wants to pursue their goals, even if they are not writing related.  Since it is my birthday week, A Few Bad Boys is available for only 99p/99c until Saturday 11th August 2018.

The first 500 words of A Few Bad Boys

As Lucy Fratelli lay on the cold bathroom floor, her head was spinning, she knew that she could not keep doing this. Her life had to change and it had to change now. She had been in this position too many times and Rob always said sorry and that he wouldn’t do it again, but he always did. The violence had started shortly after she let him move into her house. First it was a slap, then it was a punch, then it was kicking whilst she was lying helpless on the floor. How was she going to get away from him and get him to leave her house? She had lost consciousness this time and was feeling very sick. She wasn’t sure if the feeling of sickness was due to her head injury or due to the intolerable situation she had now found herself in.

She attempted to move her bruised and aching body and gradually pulled herself up, using the bath for support. She shuffled to the basin, terrified to look in the mirror. What damage had he done to her this time? Her right eye was so swollen that she couldn’t open it. Her lip was split and her ear was bleeding. A massive lump was already forming on her head. As she felt her head she realised that it was also bleeding. She lifted her top as best as she could so she could try and inspect her back. No wonder it was agony, she could see an impression of his shoe engrained on her slender body. Her ribs hurt so much that she was scared to cough and she could barely move her left arm. Bruising was already appearing on her legs and they felt like they could hardly take her weight. She tried to clean herself up a bit and hobbled to the kitchen to get a glass of water and to ponder on whether to go to the doctors or not and on how she was going to leave Rob.

She also reminisced a little on how her life was pre-Rob. Lucy Fratelli was loved by everyone. She was really attractive with beautiful, thick dark hair and eyes that were so full of life. She had a family that adored her and brilliant friends. She had been so full of confidence, ambition and determination and inspired others; that was before Rob started to shatter her world. Why had she let him move in with her? He had turned her into a shadow of her former self. He was a control freak. Lucy knew all this and inside she knew that she had to free herself of him. She felt so lonely and ashamed. Many times she had wanted to confide in her best friend, Julie, about what was going on but she knew that her reaction would be to tell her father, Terry Fratelli, and then there would be murder. Terry would never allow anyone to hurt his family and if they did

Blurb

Lucy Fratelli is the girl who has everything – beauty, brains, her own apartment, a close family and friends. Unfortunately, she is hiding a secret from her family and her best friend, Julie. Lucy knows that she can tell her family and Julie anything but she also knows that if they find out her secret, there will be hell to pay.
Terry Fratelli, Lucy’s father, is a gangster and lives for his family. He will do anything to make them happy and protect them at all costs. When Lucy’s secret is revealed he will stop at nothing to keep her safe.

***

If you like hard boiled crime this is right up your street!

Amazon.co.uk link

Amazon.com link

 Don’t forget that ‘A Few Bad Boys’ is available for only 99p/99c until Saturday 11th August 2018.

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Nicole was born in London but moved to Spain in 2000.  She has two children, James and Phoenix, who have been her driving force behind her completing her debut novel, A Few Bad Boys.  Prior to having children she worked for Karren Brady, which added to her determination to succeed in all goals.

Nicole has wanted to write a book for as long as she can remember, and although she has written articles and helped others with their writing, it is only last year that she finally completed and published her debut novel, A Few Bad Boys. Although the journey to becoming published has been long and difficult, she is overjoyed that she has managed it, but understands that there is a lot more work to do.

Nicole is a firm believer in living life to the full but also living a balanced life.

Nicole is currently working on her second novel, Survival At Any Cost and has a regular blog.

Goodreads link

Instagram Nicole

Facebook Nicole

Webpage Nicoletheauthor

Jolsclub

Many thanks to Nicole, for popping by today with her fabulous words. 

Happy reading,

Jenny x

Opening Lines: Nostra Dame by Jacqueline Evans

Today I’m delighted to welcome Jacqueline Evans to my blog to share the first 500 words of her book, Nostra Dame

It’s time for some ‘Opening Lines.’

After drawing a blank in my search to find someone who shared a similar ability, I was inspired to write my first book.  The word ‘psychic’ is used so loosely these days and often leaves people either cringing or wanting to know more.  It saddens me that people part with their money in the hope of getting a ‘message’ from a deceased loved one at events or private sittings that promise such things.  It’s nothing like that for me; I don’t profess to speak to dead people!  The thought of being put in the same box prompted me to write my own story.  For me, the definition of psychic is precognitive, spiritual and selfless – it doesn’t come with a price tag or self-glory.  The people in my book – those that lost their lives, are very dear to my heart.  My only hope is that I told the story with dignity.….

First 500 words of Nostra Dame

Chapter One – Preppy

From the start it appeared as if I’d been in training; a ‘preppy’ guided by an unknown force.  As if my path had somehow been pre-determined.  A near-death experience in my mid-twenties triggered a chain of events that completely changed my course.  Not only did it give me the strength to shed years of imposed beliefs but also taught me to trust my instincts.

Only then did a deeper level of empathy and understanding begin to emerge.  Over time, it seemed to turn a series of cogs, which opened me up to the supernatural and to a world far beyond the constructs of science.  A world that knew the future and one that seemed eager to want to share it.  Down to the tiniest detail, I would be given pieces of information that when put together formed a complete picture.

From serious crimes to global disasters, there had been no limits to the intelligence.  It had proven so reliable that I became able to interpret the most complex murders and anticipate big changes one after the other, like on a checklist.

‘It’ knew everything about me too; what made me tick, my likes, my dislikes and my reactions before I reacted.  It appeared to pave the way, engineering every twist and turn; so many turns that it is difficult to know where to start.  Perhaps then, my first memory would be the best place.

It was Christmas day, 1968.  A sparsely decorated tree stood in the corner of the cramped living room, glistening with multi-coloured lights and it felt magical.  We had sat around the table eating dinner, wearing paper hats; and afterwards my sister and I had wanted to play upstairs with our new toys.

We lived in the inner city of Birmingham, in a dingy, Victorian, terraced house.  Our only form of heating had been a paraffin heater and portable electric fire.  My large bedroom, which I shared with my sister, had high ceilings, bare floorboards and no furniture, other than two single beds.  It had been so bitterly cold, that my mother had put the fire in there to take the icy chill off.

Despite her warnings not to go anywhere near it, I couldn’t resist its warm glow and had stood closer than I should have.  The ribbon on my dress had dangled on the red-hot bars and in seconds, flames lashed around my head.  My sister’s screams had thankfully alerted my father, who flew into the room, rolled me in a blanket and took me straight to hospital.  I was just two and nine months, though remember it like it was yesterday.

It had been the reason for us moving to another house which had been far more modern, albeit still urban.  My sister, Diana was two years older and my brother, Stewart was five years older than me.

My dad worked long hours as a lorry driver, whilst my mom stayed at home looking after us.  She had been relentless in keeping us…

***

Nostra Dame, the true story of a woman trying to make sense of a mysterious world. Suppressing what came naturally for most of my early years; a pivotal moment in my mid-twenties opened a door to what lay dormant. The depth of knowledge that ensued began to snowball, leading me to predict global events and high-profile murder investigations. Each piece of information imparted in fractals, like pieces to a puzzle; and it was down to me, to put the pieces together

UK: http://amzn.to/2u5Dazq

US: http://amzn.to/2iQIdh8

Jacqueline was born in the 1960’s and grew up in Birmingham, where she still lives today with her youngest son. From an early age, she became an avid reader and always dreamt of one day becoming a writer. For many years Jacqueline worked in a bank, doing a job that she enjoyed but left to raise her two sons; a move she has never regretted. She loves spending time with family, cooking hearty meals, sewing and gardening. Above all, she likes nothing more than to escape to a quiet corner to read her favourite kind of books; crime-fiction and psychological thrillers. Currently she is working on her second, non-fiction book and excitedly awaiting the arrival of her first granddaughter.

https://twitter.com/JEvansthewriter

https://www.facebook.com/JEvansthewriter/ 

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Many thanks Jacqueline.

Don’t forget to join me next week to read some words from Nicole Dunsford Evans.

Happy reading,

Jenny x

The Folville Chronicles: Bakewell Connection

I have recently returned from a family holiday to the Peak District. The area, more or less in the middle of England, is one of my favourite places to go.

With moors, mountains, caves, forests and stunning villages, I make sure I visit as often as I can. It isn’t only the geography and geology that appeal however- but the history. In particular the fourteenth century background to the Bakewell area of Derbyshire. Why? Well…if I mentioned the Coterel family, regular readers of this blog might understand.

James, John, Nicholas and Laurence Coterel formed a notorious criminal family who operated in and around Bakewell in the 1320’s and 1330’s. They were powerful men. Nicholas and James even worked for the Queen of England for a while- but more about that when the next ‘The Folville Chronicles’ novel comes out at Christmas….

At the current time I am only 10,000 words (ish) from completing writing Book 3 of The Folville Chronicles- Edward’s Outlaw. Continuing the story of Mathilda of Twyford and her relationship with the criminally connected Folville family of Leicestershire, Edwards’ Outlaw will take us into Rockingham castle, (Leicestershire). However, this doesn’t mean I can’t start to look ahead to Book 4 (title as yet unknown) and another story location- and that is precisely what I was doing as I enjoyed the sunshine and walking terrain of the Peaks last week.

I have always known that, like in The Outlaw’s Ransom, Mathilda and her Folville family would be spending some time in Derbyshire during Book 4- especially around the Bakewell area where a foul deed will require Mathilda’s special brand of detective abilities- and the Folvilles’ unique take on legal justice…

Concentrating on a joint crime (from the historical record) the Folvilles and the Coterel brothers are about to commence a long planned, and very daring venture- but is it a crime?

It was as I was cycling along the Monsal Trail between Buxton and Bakewell that I realised where this ‘crime’ will take place…and what a beautiful place it still is…

Obviously I’m not going to reveal any more about the plot yet. For a start, I don’t want to ruin it- plus, I haven’t worked it all out yet!!

One of the highlights of my Peak District holiday, was when I stood on Bakewell bridge and looked across into the town. As I stood there, watching the bustle of people go by I couldn’t help but think of Mathilda when she was sent there by Robert de Folville in The Outlaw’s Ransom. It was the furthest she had ever strayed from her home in Twyford, Leicestershire, and led to an adventure and mystery that would change her life forever.

Happy reading!

Jennifer x

Competition: Name a character in Edward’s Outlaw!

Book Three of The Folville Chronicles is almost fully drafted.

Continuing the story of potter’s daughter, Mathilda of Twyford, Edward’s Outlaw, takes her away from Ashby-Folville manor and into the dark shadows of Rockingham Castle…a well known haunt of felons on the run from the law…

Before I can finish my story however, I need your help.

Help me find a female name for one of my characters.

This is your chance to have your name, a favourite name or a loved one’s name, featured in a novel.

Should the name you suggest be chosen, then, not only will it be used in the book, but Edwards’ Outlaw will also be dedicated to you.

I’d love you to pick a name for me!

Remember that the book is set in the fourteenth century- so no Kylie’s or Chardonnay’s please. Otherwise, all you need to do is leave your chosen female name on this thread (via my publisher’s Facebook event page)

https://www.facebook.com/events/387647131739270/

In the meantime, why not have a peep at Books’ One and Two…

Good luck!!

The competition closes on 30th June.

Jennifer xx

 

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