Tag: family drama

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

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

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

BLURB:

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

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

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

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

FIRST 500 WORDS:

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

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

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

Kathy sniffed. ‘Not to you.’

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

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

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

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

‘What can I get you, love?’

Kathy started.

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

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

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

BIO

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

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

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

Link: https://thewriterprintableco.etsy.com

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

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

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

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

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

BookBub: https://shorturl.at/nrxFJ

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

Happy reading everyone,

Jenny x

Opening Lines with Carryl Church: The Forgotten Life of Connie Harris

By Jenny Kane

On September 5, 2024

In Blog, Fiction, Historical fiction, Opening Lines Blog, Romance, saga

This week I’m more than a little proud to be featuring the #openinglines from Carryl Church’s debut novel, The Forgotten Life of Connie Harris, on the day of its publication.

Over to you Carryl…

It’s an absolute honour to be featured on Jenny’s blog today! Ever since I first met Jenny through her wonderful writing courses, I’ve dreamed that one day, my debut novel would feature on Opening Lines. And here I am after many years of words, stubborn persistence and a few tears.

Blurb: The Forgotten Life of Connie Harris by Carryl Church

A woman who dared to dream beyond her circumstances and a legacy that refuses to fade away.

1951, Devon. Connie’s job at the Tivoli cinema provides an escape from her alcoholic father, Frank. There she meets and falls in love with projectionist Charlie. After a whirlwind romance, he splices his proposal into her favourite film, Casablanca, and for the first time, Connie dares to dream of a life beyond the one she’s settled for. Charlie promises her a happy ending, but for Connie, fate has a different plan.

1996. Seeking fulfilment after his divorce, Eddie takes on the now dilapidated Tivoli cinema. He finds an abandoned film reel with a note – I’m sorry – The film reveals the final frames of Casablanca, with a marriage proposal to someone called Connie Harris . . .

***

Opening Lines:

July 1951

The body was sprawled at his feet, as if it were nothing to do with him. He flexed his fingers, studying their tremor with mild curiosity. He’d experienced it before, the adrenaline that accompanies taking a life, but not like this.

He snaked one arm under the curve of her delicate spine, the other under her legs, stumbling against the banister as he lifted.

Outside, the street slumbered beneath an anthracite sky. He loaded his cargo into the van and returned to the house. The half-empty bottle of whisky was waiting on the stairs where he’d abandoned it. The burning liquid slid down his throat — an elixir to numb the guilt.

A dog’s bark ricocheted along the huddled terraces as he climbed into the van. He froze. No twitching curtains, no lights. Nobody cares.

With the crunch of gears, he pulled onto the road. The whisky bottle rolled across the front seat, then back as he rounded a bend.

Driving north away from Tiverton, houses gave way to vast emptiness, trees and bushes loomed out of the inky night. The road hugged the river, at the mercy of its bewildering contours. With each passing minute his thirst grew until it threatened to roar like the river beside him. The whisky bottle continued its game. Back and forth. Back and forth. Taunting him.

He pressed on, struggling to focus. The beam from his lights contorted like a kaleidoscope, menacing shadows subverted his vision. A deer skittered before his headlights. He swerved — the bottle fell to the floor with a thud.

At a field gate, he pulled in and cut the engine. Searching the floor for the bottle, he lifted it to his parched lips. The world stilled.

Dank air moistened his face as he stepped from the van. Nothing to see but barren moor, not a sound except for the rustle of trees and his own jagged breath.

He dragged his cargo from the back of the vehicle and launched it over the gate, then followed himself. He heaved the body onto his shoulder, as heavy and cumbersome as his kit bag.

The rough terrain disorientated every step. The ground swelled, then fell away without warning. They landed in a ditch, her body beneath his.

With earth-smeared fingers, he smoothed the hair from her brow.

Here in her shallow grave, the tears came.

He staggered away. The van choked to life. The whisky bottle rolled. The road wound on. He opened the window. Salt air whipped his cheeks.

His eyes grew heavy, the lids snapped shut.

He was flying, and then he wasn’t.

April 1951

Chapter 1

Connie leaned against her locker, re-reading Michael’s letter informing her he’d joined the Navy. She could sense her brother’s guilt through the thin, crisp paper. He’d abandoned her and now he was putting himself out of reach.

‘I can’t deal with him, Con,’ Michael had said to her at their mother’s wake when the few relatives who’d come to pick over the…

You can buy your copy of The Forgotten Life of Connie Harris (as an ebook or in paperback), from all good retailers, including: www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CXJ8MVYS/.

Bio:

Originally from the Isle of Wight, Carryl now lives in Devon with her family.

Although writing was always a dream, an early fascination with cinema, and in particular the films of Humphrey Bogart, led to a career as a Film and Photography Archivist. This background not only inspired The Forgotten Life of Connie Harris but continues to impact her other writing. Years spent watching archive footage gave her a unique insight into how people lived in the early 20th century now brought vividly to life in her stories.

Carryl has a BA in Media and Literature and an MA in Film and Television Archiving. After working in Media Archives for seventeen years, including The Imperial War Museum and The BBC, she now writes full-time in the company of her cat, Ditsy.

Links:

Website https://carrylchurch.co.uk/

Follow me on:

Twitter/X: https://X.com/CarrylChurch

Instagram: @carrylchurch

Facebook: @carrylchurchauthor

Many congratulations Carryl, thank you for sharing your opening lines with us.

Happy reding everyone,