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

Tag: romance Page 1 of 45

Everyone loves a Cornish read…

I’ve been a regular visitor to Cornwall all my life. It’s not surprising then, that I’ve written five novels based in the county: A Cornish Escape and its sequel, A Cornish Wedding, as well as my recent cosy crime novels, The Fish and Chip Shop Detectives, The Fish and Chips Shop Detectives and the Campervan Murder, and a third, as yet unannounced, chip shop mystery.

While all of these stories fall neatly into the #feelgood fiction range, the first two lean towards #romance and #friendship – without being in anyway twee! A Cornish Escape and A Cornish Wedding follow the adventures of Abi Carter, who is about to start a #newlife by the sea.

Blurb- A Cornish Escape

Perfect for fans of Jenny Colgan, Phillipa Ashley and Cathy Bramley, this summer romance is sure to warm your heart.

Abi’s life is turned upside down when she is widowed before her thirtieth birthday. Determined to find something positive in the upheaval, Abi decides to make a fresh start somewhere new. With fond childhood memories of holidays in a Cornish cottage, could Cornwall be the place to start over?

With all her belongings in the boot of her car but no real plan, a chance meeting in a village pub brings new friends Beth and Max into her life. Max soon helps Abi track down the house of her dreams but things aren’t as simple as Abi hoped.

Can Abi leave her past behind and finally get her happy ending?

(Previously published as Abi’s House)

Here’s a ‘Tiny Taster’…

It was the muffins that had been the last straw. As Abi sat nursing a glass of wine, she thought back to the events of an hour earlier with an exasperated sigh.

Hurrying towards the church hall, Abi parked Luke’s unnecessarily large and ostentatious Porsche 4×4, and headed inside with a stack of Tupperware tubs in her arms. With her handbag slung over her shoulder and her key fob hanging from her teeth, Abi precariously balanced her load as she elbowed the hall door open.

Although she was twenty minutes early, Abi had still managed to be the last to arrive, earning her a silent ‘tut’ from some of the executive wives who were adding the finishing touches to the tables that surrounded three sides of the hall, and sympathetic grimaces from everyone else.

Acting as though she hadn’t noticed the air of disapproval, Abi made a beeline for the cake stall and plastered her best ‘this is for charity so be happy’ expression on her face. Polly Chester-Davies, an exquisitely dressed woman whom Abi always thought of as ‘Perfect Polly’, was adding doilies to plates, making the stall look as though it was stuck in a timewarp.

‘Ah, there you are, Mrs Carter, I’d given you up.’

Biting back the desire to tell Polly she’d been working, and was in fact early anyway, Abi began to unpack her wares, ‘Here you go, two dozen chocolate muffins without frosting, and two dozen with frosting, as requested.’

Polly said nothing, but her imperious stare moved rather pointedly from Abi’s face to the chocolate muffins already in position on the table, and back again.

Her disdainful expression made Abi mumble, ‘Are you expecting to sell lots of chocolate muffins today then?’

‘No, Mrs Carter, I am not. Which is precisely why you were instructed to make chococcino muffins.’

It had been that ‘instructed’ which did it. In that moment Abi felt an overwhelming hit of resentment for every one of the orders she had gracefully accepted from this Stepford harridan of the community.

For almost three years Abi had been doing what this woman asked of her, and never once had she said thank you, or commented on how nice Abi’s cooking was. Probably, Abi thought as she compared her own muffins with those provided by Perfect Polly herself, because mine don’t look like they could pull your fillings out. Nor had any reference ever been made to the fact that she would have to catch up on her own work in the evenings, after helping out with whichever good cause she’d been emotionally blackmailed into supporting this time. Not that Abi was against supporting a good cause, but this was different. These women didn’t raise funds for whichever charity was flavour of the month out of the goodness of their hearts. They did it because it was what they should be seen to be doing. It went hand in bespoke glove with being the wife of a successful man…

Available as a paperback or in eBook format, you can buy your copy of The Cornish Escape from all good book retailers, including:

Amazon UK 

Amazon.com 

If you enjoy A Cornish Escape, Abi’s adventures continue in A Cornish Wedding.

Happy reading,

Jenny xx

 

Opening Lines with Hannah Claire: The Book Lover’s Bucket List

I’m delighted to welcome Hannah Claire to my blog today with the #openinglines of her debut novel: The Book Lover’s Bucket List.

This a particular pleasure for me, not because this is such a fun read, but because Hannah is a former #novelinayear student, turned friend. I could not be more thrilled to be hosting her today.

Publication is scheduled for 24th April, which is National Bucket List Day. How perfect is that!!

Blurb

A bucket list to change her life.

Gabriella Brookes has spent years quietly loving Zach Osborne, knowing he only sees her as his best friend’s bookish little sister. He’s charming, successful, and only back in their Derbyshire village for the summer before his next big move.

When Gabby stumbles across her long-forgotten teenage bucket list, Zach proposes a deal: together, they’ll tick off her book-inspired challenges, if she helps him complete a few fun tasks of his own.

What starts as a perfectly sensible plan quickly turns into something far more complicated, when real life refuses to stay neatly tucked between the pages.

But as Zach’s past resurfaces and his future pulls him away, Gabby is forced to face a harder truth: dreams don’t come true if you only ever read about them.

Ticking off the challenges was meant to be easy.
Admitting what your heart wants is the real risk.

A cosy, small-town romantic comedy about courage, love, and rewriting your own ending.

Here are the first 500 words:

Chapter One

It was late afternoon at Millbrook Library, and the only sounds were the hushed murmuring of voices, the turning of pages and the occasional clank from the ancient heating pipes. Gabriella Brookes cast her eyes over the display she was working on and gave it a nod of approval. Every summer they had a table for recommended holiday reads and, this year, Gabby was determined to make it bigger and better than ever. She adjusted the bucket and spade, sprinkled a little more sand around and reached for the large stack of books she had selected.

As far as Gabby was concerned, one of the best bits of her job managing the library was helping people find the perfect book for their current need or mood. For the summer Read Yourself Happy display, she had chosen novels set in far-flung and exotic locations, as well as sweet English villages beset by murders; some laugh-out-loud comedies and twisty, turny thrillers and, of course, a handful of swoon-worthy love stories with gorgeous romantic heroes. All novels you could relax with, and enjoy a much-needed break from reality. Too much reality was definitely a bad thing, Gabby decided, appraising the display.

‘Looking good,’ her colleague Ange called out as she walked over and joined Gabby at the table. ‘Perfect for the weather.’

She nodded to the large arched windows, which gave a great view of the rain lashing down on the usually bustling marketplace of Millbrook. The chocolate-box-pretty village high in the Derbyshire Dales was beset with heavy grey clouds, the trees around the square bending in the wind. The market was devoid of locals and tourists alike, everyone seeking refuge from the storm instead of browsing the stalls. The traders were huddled inside their coats trying to stay dry, though Gabby could see some of them packing up early, giving up hope of more shoppers when the weather was so terrible.

‘I love that you chose today of all days to do the holiday reads table,’ Ange went on. ‘It’s the worst weather we’ve had in weeks. We should be displaying blankets and hot water bottles, not seashells and ice cream.’

Gabby took a cuddly seagull from her box of supplies and sat it next to a stack of romantic comedies.

‘It’s the middle of June. There should be a bit of sun, at least. That’s why the display was on the list for this week.’

‘And if it’s on Gabby’s list, it has to happen,’ Ange teased. ‘Shame the weather didn’t get the memo. Though you know that sand will get everywhere, right? We’ll be hoovering it up from now until Christmas.’

Laughing, Gabby tucked a stray dark-blonde curl that had escaped from her ponytail behind her ear. She liked working with Ange. At thirty-nine, Ange was ten years older than Gabby, and while the two women were very different, they had bonded over their shared love of books. Ange was loud, confident, and liked to wear the brightest clothes she…

***

If that has whetted your appetite, then you can pre-order Book One in the Millbrook series (published by Dove Peak Press) now: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0GX33FZ34 

Bio

Hannah has always been a bookworm, loving nothing more than escaping into fictional worlds. She can’t walk past a bookshop without adding to her already-overflowing To Be Read shelves. She writes contemporary romantic novels set against the beautiful landscape of the Peak District in Derbyshire, close to where she lives.

A firm believer in the power of love stories to offer comfort and escape, Hannah writes books that celebrate connection, hope, and the magic of second chances — stories designed to bring a little joy into busy lives.

She lives with her husband, their three children, two cats, and one very bouncy dog who still hasn’t worked out that squirrels generally don’t want to be her friends.

Hannah loves long sunny days spent outdoors and rainy afternoons spent indoors — ideally under a cosy blanket with a good book. Her favourite things include sparkly nail varnish, candles, bubble baths, and chocolate, and she remains convinced that there is no such thing as too many notebooks.

Many thanks Hannah.

Happy reading everyone,

Jenny x

Opening Lines with Jan Baynham: The Stolen Sister

I’m welcoming the super lovely, and ultra-talented, Jan Baynham to my place today to share the #openinglines from her brand new novel: THE STOLEN SISTER

Thank you for inviting be back to your lovely blog, Jenny.

Introduction

The Stolen Sister is my sixth novel. It has all the features which readers are coming to expect of my books – a dual timeline, contrasting locations, family secrets and two love stories. In this novel, there is also the theme of grief, resilience, sibling relationships, romantic love, a search for identity and reconciliation. It’s set in beautiful Crete in 1963 and again twenty years later, as well as rural mid-Wales. The Stolen Sister is the story of Greta, a young Welsh painter who arrives in the fictional town of Fáros Limáni to join an art commune. In 1984, her daughter Zoë travels to Crete to carry out her mother’s dying wish to have her ashes scattered into the sea there even though she knows nothing of her mother’s connection with the island. Through my words, I hope I’ve been able to take the reader on a virtual trip to this stunning island, as seen through Zoë’s eyes as she returns to the place of her birth for the first time.

Matala caves

Blurb

Lost letters. A secret Greek love affair. A daughter’s search for the truth.

Crete, 1963. Young artist Greta Ellis arrives at the sun-soaked port of Fáros Limáni, ready to paint and explore the beautiful Greek island.

There she meets passionate local, Andreas Papadakis, and Greta is swept up in a world of colour, freedom and forbidden love. But when tragedy strikes, Greta is forced to make an impossible choice that will change the course of her life — and her heart — forever.

Wales, 1984. After the death of her beloved mother Greta, silversmith Zoë Carter receives a sealed letter that upends everything she thought she knew. Greta’s dying wish is for her ashes to be scattered in Crete, a place precious to her . . . but somewhere she had never spoken of.

Searching through her mother’s belongings, Zoë uncovers a series of letters. Written in Greek and dated the year before she was born, they reveal a passionate love affair. And a tragedy that tore it apart.

Determined to know the truth, Zoë travels to Crete to follow the trail left behind in her mother’s letters. Through the olive groves and whitewashed villages of Crete, she begins to piece together a story of love, betrayal and loss — and discovers that her family was never what it seemed.

Perfect for fans of Lucinda Riley, Kate Morton, Dinah Jefferies, Santa Montefiore, Fiona Valpy, Barbara Davis, Angela Petch, Karen Swan or Anita Chapman.

First 500 Words

Prologue

North West Crete, 1967

Greta forced herself to smile as she watched her handsome new husband join in with the traditional Greek dancers, his blue eyes sparkling as he swayed his hips and dipped in time with the others as they circled the dance floor. The haunting sound of the bouzouki music filled the busy taverna above the noise of the fun and laughter of the diners. Since arriving in Crete four years before as a naive art student, she’d heard the instrument played many times but tonight there was something unnerving about the music. It seemed dissonant to her. Something wasn’t right.

She quickly dismissed the feeling when her three-year-old daughter wriggled down from her lap.

‘Me dance, too.’ Even though she could hardly keep her eyes open, the little girl ran towards the dancers who stopped and clapped, welcoming a laughing Greta and her daughter to join John in the circle. They all sidestepped and dipped, then kicked each leg in time to the music.

The meal at the taverna, situated a few miles out of Fáros Limáni, was to celebrate John joining his wife and daughter to make a new life together and to thank their American friends, Bill and Nancy, who’d helped them settle. John had left his temporary teaching job in Heraklion for a permanent post close to where they were going to live.

Returning to sit down at the table, Greta pulled the little girl onto her lap, loving how she snuggled into her and fell asleep, safe in her mother’s arms. She always looks so like her father as she sleeps. The same long dark lashes, the same beautiful face.

She looked at a smiling John, sitting next to her. How she loved her new husband! She couldn’t believe how lucky she was that life was good again . . . so why did she have a niggle of foreboding?

‘Someone’s exhausted. Shall we go?’ John stood and held out his arms to take the little one from Greta. Bill and Nancy stood to go with them.

They took the coastal road back to the port. Relieved John was driving slowly round such sharp bends and that the road was deserted, Greta relaxed into the seat behind him.

‘Not far now, sweetheart.’ John glanced in the rear mirror at the little girl fast asleep between Greta and Nancy.

A wall of rock loomed in the headlights.

Greta screamed. ‘John!’

John yanked the steering wheel in order to try to take the hairpin bend he’d been distracted from. ‘Holy shit! Hold on!’ Searing pain shot through the whole of Greta’s body as the car crashed into the cliff. She heard the thud of John’s head slamming down onto the centre of the steering wheel. Unable to move, deafening noise engulfing her — screams, the horn blaring continuously, her daughter wailing, panic in voices.

‘Oh, God.’ Bill shook his friend. John didn’t respond even as Bill shook him harder. Choked, he said, ‘I’ll get Greta out first. You lift the…

Here are some of the amazing reviews for Jan’s incredible work.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ‘The most compelling, evocative, heart-wrenching book I have ever read.’

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ‘Captivating and emotional . . . A top, top, must-read.’

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ‘One of the best sagas I’ve read in a very long time.’

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ‘A novel that will transport you to Greece, with its sensory delights of sights, sounds and flavours.’

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ‘The vivid imagery used to paint Greece is stunning and made me feel as if I was there. If you enjoy a multi-layered novel brimming with secrets, you’ll adore this story.’

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ ‘Historical fiction at its best.’

You can buy The Stolen Sister from all good retailers, including:

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/Stolen-Sister-powerful-emotional-historical-ebook/dp/B0GN9Z34YH/ref

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/Stolen-Sister-powerful-emotional-historical-ebook/dp/B0GN9Z34YH/ref 

BIO

Originally from mid-Wales, Jan lives in Radyr, on the outskirts of Cardiff. After retiring from a career in teaching and advisory education, she now writes historical fiction and sagas. Fascinated by family secrets and ‘skeletons lurking in cupboards’, Jan writes dual narrative, dual timeline historical novels that explore how decisions and actions made by family members from one generation impact on the lives of the next. Setting and a sense of place play an important part in all of Jan’s stories and as well as her native mid-Wales, there is always a contrasting location in sunnier climes. She is published by Joffe Books/Choc Lit. She enjoys meeting up with other writers, especially members of her local Cariad RNA Chapter as well as when attending talks and workshops.

X- @JanBaynham https://twitter.com/JanBaynham

Facebook – Jan Baynham Writer https://www.facebook.com/JanBayLit/?locale=en_GB

Instagram – janbaynham https://www.instagram.com/janbaynham/?hl=en-gb

Threads – https://www.threads.com/@janbaynham

Blog – Jan’s Journey into Writing https://janbaynham.blogspot.com

Amazon Page – Jan Baynham https://www.amazon.co.uk/stores/Jan-Baynham/author/B085DC6BKR?ref 

Many thanks for sharing your work with us today, Jan,

Happy reading,

Jenny xx

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

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

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

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

BLURB:

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

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

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

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

FIRST 500 WORDS:

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

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

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

Kathy sniffed. ‘Not to you.’

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

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

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

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

‘What can I get you, love?’

Kathy started.

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

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

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

BIO

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

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

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

Link: https://thewriterprintableco.etsy.com

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

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

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

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

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

BookBub: https://shorturl.at/nrxFJ 

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

Happy reading everyone,

Jenny x

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

Valentines

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

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

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

RH- E Flynn

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

Extract

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Hi, Marcus.’

‘Hi honey, you OK?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Oh cute – ta.’

‘Idiot! Enjoy shopping.’

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

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

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

 

Happy Valentine’s Day,

Jenny x

 

Historical Seasonal Read: The Winter Outlaw

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

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

Will everyone survive to enjoy the Yule celebrations?

Blurb

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

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

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

***

Here’s the prologue to whet your appetite…

Prologue: Winter 1329

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Had given him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the meantime, where was he going to go?

***

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

 

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

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

Happy reading,

Jen xx

Opening Lines: Secrets at the Ambrose Café by Carryl Church

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

 Blurb:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here are the first 500 words…

Exeter, 1925

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Ready?’ He moved to take the trolley.

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

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

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

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

‘Alice Winters,’ Anthony replied.

Della shrugged.

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

***

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

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

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

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

***

Bio:

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

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

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

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

Instagram: @CarrylChurch

Facebook: Carryl Church

***

Many thanks for sharing your #openinglines with us today.

Happy reading everyone,

Jenny x

 

Seasoning

Regular readers of contemporary fictions/ romcoms/romances can’t have failed to notice that there are a great many  novels out there with a season of the year named in the title.

My recent #contemporayfiction novel, Summer at Sea Glass Cove, forms part of this trend. Obviously set in the summer months, this novel will – hopefully – let you feel the sun on your skin, despite the recent autumnal dip in temperature.

Meanwhile, #thepottingshed series is set in and around a garden centre, it made sense to make the novels seasonal, to fit in with the gardening year. Book one, Frost Falls at The Potting Shed, is based in winter, book two, Bluebell Season at The Potting Shed takes place in the spring. For book three, Misty Mornings at The Potting Shed, I skipped summer in this instance – when most plants are happily growing away – and have taken Maddie and her team into autumn, when it’s time to tend the polytunnels and to ensure the ongoing success of the growing business. 

My previous #series of novels, #MillGrange, also has seasonally inspired titles. In this case however, the summer, autumn, spring and winter connections were less deliberate.

 

The first novel, Midsummer Dreams at Mill Grange, was so called as the lead character, Thea Thomas, was dreaming of a new start to her life during the months of Midsummer – so far, so obvious.  It’s sequel, Autumn Leaves at Mill Grange, was so titled because it was decided (by my publisher’s marketing team) that the reference to the season in book one had worked so well, they wanted to keep the time of year concept running. So the die was cast, and the following novels continued the seasonal theme – hence Spring Blossoms at Mill Grange and Winter Fires at Mill Grange.

In all honesty, I wasn’t sure I wanted so many of my novels to have the linking theme of seasons. However, there is no arguing with the popularity of the stories which state, upfront, when in the year they are set.  We like books with a declared summer background in the summer months – and in the winter months, when we need mentally ‘warming up’, a great many of us reach of a summer or spring read. In the winter time we like a festive read – and oddly – in July there is often a wave of winter themed sales as folk use fiction to escape from the heat, and dream of winter jumpers and roaring fires.

Fiction gives us the chance to have the seasons we expect to have – cold in the winter, sun in the summer, new growth in the spring, life crunching in the autumn… At a time when out weather is all over the place and the fears of climate change are fast becoming a reality, we seek the reassurance of what we know – or want to know – within our fiction.

Happy seasonal reading,

Jenny x

New smiles at The Potting Shed

Following the adventures of Maddie, Ed, Sabi, Jo, Jem, Sara, and the team at The Potting Shed garden centre, Misty Mornings at The Potting Shed, (the third book in the series), saw the opening of a new café, some wonderful new characters, and a face from Ed’s past…

Blurb

Don’t miss out on this lovely book by #1 Kindle bestselling author Jenny Kane.

Welcome back to The Potting Shed! As Maddie and Sabi re-open the doors of their family-run garden centre. Business is booming, and it’s time to give back to the community that has kept The Potting Shed afloat, by opening the Forget-Me-Not dementia café.

But, as the doors to the café open, Sabi is offered the chance of a lifetime, that could take her away from The Potting Shed for weeks, café manager Jo’s frail, elderly mother is taken ill, and Maddie’s partner, Ed, takes a job in a faraway city just when Maddie needs him more than ever. A new member of staff is desperately required – who will join Sara, Jo and Ivan as the busy autumn season fast approaches?

Available from Amazon UK, Amazon US, Kobo, Nook and Waterstones as an ebook or paperback.

You can also buy an audiobook of this story: Amazon UK, Amazon US.

(Although Misty Mornings is the third book in this series, it can be enjoyed as a standalone read.)

Here is an extract from the story – welcome Belle, a new friend to The Potting Shed.

Belle swept a swathe of deep purple curls from her face and glared into the mirror that hung in the hallway of her little home.

Smudging some concealer under her eyes, she re-examined her complexion.

‘I don’t know why you’re trying to hide those spots, Mum.’ Niall bounded down the stairs, his long thin legs, out of proportion to his short body, as if only half of him was having a growth spurt at once. ‘They’ll go on their own soon – that’s what you tell me about mine.’

‘That’s because you’re a teenager. You’re supposed to have spots. I’m thirty-five! Spots just make me feel old.’

Niall stood next to his mum and stared into the mirror. ‘Your skin’s so dark, they’re hardly visible. Now, if you were white, it’d look like mini satellite dishes had landed on your face.’

‘Thank you for that vote of confidence – not!’ Belle couldn’t help but chuckle at her eldest son’s teasing expression.

‘I was being nice!’

‘By telling me that the spots on my chin, which I saw as annoying, but small, are actually huge.’

‘Why are you trying to hide them anyway?’

‘I’ve got an interview on Monday. I was practising looking nice.’ Belle wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m not sure anyone will hire me to work with food if I have three volcanos on my face!’

Niall gave his mum a hug. ‘You’ll ace it. Every café needs a woman with bright purple hair.’

‘Do you think I should wash out the dye?’ Belle tugged at her mass of curls. ‘Or I could dye it black, or…’

‘Mum! I was joking. It suits you. Just put on your best tie-dye dungarees and you’ll be perfect.’

‘I’ll be wearing a pair of trousers and a shirt and jacket.’

‘Boring.’

‘Sensible.’ Belle left out a pent-up breath. ‘I’m panicking aren’t I.’

‘Just a bit.’ Niall sat on the stairs and glanced up at his mum through a mess of black curls. ‘Are you okay? I mean, do you need this job or just want it?’

‘Both.’ Belle smiled, hoping her eldest child wouldn’t notice the worry that was always in her eyes these days.

‘If you get the job and have to be at work while we’re at home, me and Milo will be okay.’

‘Budge up.’ Belle perched onto the stair next to Niall. ‘It’s obvious that that’s what’s bothering me, huh?’

‘That you’re worried about Milo – or about not being there for him – yeah.’

‘I worry about you too.’ Belle put an arm around Niall’s shoulder.

‘I know.’

Always conscious of inadvertently laying more responsibility on her older child than she meant to, Belle thought of Milo. He’d always been more of a handful than his brother and had taken the defection of their father three years ago hard, whereas Niall had seen it as a sad inevitability.

‘If I get the job, I won’t be home until almost five every day.’

‘I know.’

‘But what if…’

Niall got up and looked down at his mum. ‘I’ll make sure Milo gets home from school and does his homework.’

‘But you shouldn’t have to. You have your own…’

‘I don’t mind, Mum. Honestly.’…

As with many of my novels, serious subjects are covered as the characters go along. From the challenges of having relatives with dementia, to the practical difficulties of long distance relationships, Maddie and the gang face every day head on – while being determined to give something back to the community that has supported them while The Potting Shed grew from a small nursery, to the much larger affair it has become.

Obviously, I don’t want to give away any spoilers here – but I can promise the dogs (Florrie and Sheba) will be as much fun at the end of the novel as they are at the beginning. As If I’d kill the dogs! (Readers do email me asking me not too!).

If you’ve not read Frost Falls at The Potting Shed and Bluebell Season at The Potting Shed, you can catch up on the friends previous dramas via eBook, audiobook or paperback from all good retailers.

Happy reading,

Jenny x

 

A little sip from Another Cup of Coffee

This week I thought I’d share a few words from my very first #romcom, Another Cup of Coffee 

Written long before the BBC drama Mix Tape, this novel takes you into the world of Amy and her friends – and all because of a long forgotten mix tape…

Another Cup of Coffee Blurb

Thirteen years ago Amy Crane ran away from everyone and everything she knew, ending up in an unfamiliar city with no obvious past and no idea of her future. Now, though, that past has just arrived on her doorstep, in the shape of an old music cassette that Amy hasn’t seen since she was at university.

Digging out her long-neglected Walkman, Amy listens to the lyrics that soundtracked her student days. As long-buried memories are wrenched from the places in her mind where she’s kept them safely locked away for over a decade, Amy is suddenly tired of hiding.

It’s time to confront everything about her life. Time to find all the friends she left behind in England, when her heart got broken and the life she was building for herself was shattered. Time to make sense of all the feelings she’s been bottling up for all this time. And most of all, it’s time to discover why Jack has sent her tape back to her now, after all these years…

With her mantra, New life, New job, New home, playing on a continuous loop in her head, Amy gears herself up with yet another bucket-sized cup of coffee, as she goes forth to lay the ghost of first love to rest…

***

A little sip of Another Cup of Coffee…

Taking refuge in the kitchen, Amy placed her palms firmly onto the cool, tiled work surface, and took a couple of deep yet shaky breaths. Forcing her brain to slip back into action, she retrieved a bottle of white wine from the fridge, poured a large glassful and, squaring her shoulders, carried it through to the living room.

Perching on the edge of her sofa, her throat dry, Amy stared suspiciously at the tape for a second, before daring to pick it up and click open its stiff plastic box. Two minutes later, her hands still shaking, she closed it again with a sharp bang, and drank some wine. It took a further five minutes to gather the courage to re-open the case and place the tape into the dusty cassette compartment of her ancient stereo system. It must have been years since she’d seen a cassette, she thought, let alone listened to one. She wasn’t even sure the stereo still worked …

Swallowing another great gulp of alcohol, Amy closed her eyes and pressed Play, not at all sure she wanted to take this trip back in time …

 

***

Another Cup of Coffee is available from all good book retailers, including-

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Another-Cup-Coffee-ebook/dp/B07ZJLKXV7/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Another+Cup+of+Coffee+Jenny+KAne&qid=1575632954&sr=8-1

Amazon.com: Another Cup Of Coffee: a heart-warming and irresistible romance that will put a smile on your face (The Another Cup Series Book 1) eBook : Kane, Jenny: Kindle Store

Kobo: Another Cup Of Coffee eBook by Jenny Kane – EPUB | Rakuten Kobo United Kingdom

(Please note that the paperback and kindle editions of the novel have different covers – the picture above shows the kindle cover.)

Happy reading everyone,

Jenny xx

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