writing – Page 19 – Jenny Kane & Jennifer Ash

One of the most wonderful things about my job as a writer is that I get to meet a huge variety of amazing people. A few weeks ago I was at a book and art sale in Taunton, when I me an artist who concentrates on the painting of cows- yes, cows! We got chatting, and during the course of our conversation I discovered that her mum had started to write. So, please let me introduce you to the talented Kathryn Joyce…

Thank you very much, Jenny, for inviting me to be a guest on your blog and talk about my writing journey.

The novel started in earnest about seven years ago when I was having coffee with a friend. I was, frankly, in a bit of a rut. We (my husband, David, and I) had just returned from a year long placement doing voluntary work in Pakistan (with VSO, [Voluntary Service Overseas]) and wondering if another placement was to be on the cards.

The coffee friend is a natural problem solver; she can’t resist solutions. ‘Get a job,’ she suggested then changed tack as she saw my look of incredulity. ‘I know what you should do’, she said, ‘Write a book – you’d be good at that’ (note, challenge number one).

Her idea that I ‘might be good at that’ came from pre-blog newsletters that David and I had been writing about our time in Pakistan and during a previous placements in West Africa. I’d loved writing them and I suddenly realised they were great sources for a book. The first question (of many, I was to find out) was what would I write about? Well, it wouldn’t be about me, that was for sure. I’d heard many people say they’d write a book one day – the first word, it seemed, would be ‘I’ and the last, ‘me’! If I was going to write a book, I decided, it would have to be one I would want to read, which meant realistic fiction written in good, poetic prose (challenge number two), and it would have to explore real issues, genuine dilemmas and unexpected solutions.

Seven years later the book has evolved. Set partly in England and partly in Pakistan it tells the story of a young couple, a catastrophic mistake and a disastrous misunderstanding. And, I’ve been told, there are some memorable lines. The fact that it’s a now real book – as opposed to a manuscript – continues to be a great surprise to me. As is the discovery that people appear to like it. Wow!

Now I’ve got the writing bug a second novel is in the air (challenge number three), and in the meantime, I’m writing short stories. Whilst the sun shines (metaphorically if not actually) I’m a star! Well, a very minor one. I’ve a story shortlisted in The Eyelands International competition that is to be published in an anthology in January, and I’ve ‘appeared’ on radio, in newspapers, in blog interviews, at book groups, community groups, and book-signing engagements (note challenges four to nine). I wonder how many authors have done a book signing at Waitrose. It surprised me how many people wanted to treat themselves to an author signed book to cheer a chilly Saturday morning. How did I get to do a book-signing at Waitrose (challenge number ten)? I asked them!

If short stories are your thing, there’s a taster on my blog: http://www.kathrynjoyceauthor.co.uk/#!follow-the-author/c112v

And if novels are more you, here’s the back-cover blurb for Thicker Than Soup:

Focussed on their careers, Sally Lancing, the daughter of a Pakistani immigrant and English mother, and her partner John Sommers, the much-loved son of adoptive parents, are equally committed to a child- free future.

Then a surprise pregnancy – and doubts about the paternity – hurls them both into new, but separate, lives. Left devastated by the loss of her job, her partner, and her home, Sally and her baby son embark on a journey to Pakistan to meet her father’s distant family. Once there, Sally’s’ eyes are opened to a world that challenges her deepest beliefs.

Meanwhile, John hides his vulnerability behind his increasing success as a restaurateur. But the baby has rattled skeletons, and unable to avoid his past, he too embarks on a journey – to find his birth parents.

As their horizons broaden and their views are challenged, the child, Sammy, is an innocent but enduring link. This story of love, loss and discovery explores the concepts of morality and independence as Sally and John attempt to build separate futures. Until, that is, providence stirs life’s mixing bowl once more, and Sammy is again the crucial ingredient.

A moving tale of relationships, set against a backdrop of both Thatcher’s Britain and a beautifully evoked Pakistan, the novel explores the serious issues of cultural integration and diversity as well as the ‘who am I’ of adoption and the devastating shock of HIV.

Thicker Than Soup is available direct from the publisher, or by following the links to your favourite retailer:

www.troubador.co.uk/book_info.asp?bookid=3206

You can find me at:

www.kathrynjoyceauthor.co.uk/

www.facebook.com/Kathryn.Joyce.Author

https://twitter.com/KathyAnnJoyce

Author Bio: It’s been a few years since I left Hull as a teenager, but it was in this city of my birth and education that an English teacher at Wolfreton Comprehensive School, Miss Wilson, cultivated my childhood love of reading and writing. I wonder if she’s still around! For her, I wrote essays with verve!

But, a few years passed after school and life got seriously grown-up. As a mum with a full time career there was little time for literature other than reading a chapter or two before sleep took over.

Then came a change of direction. My children went off to university – and so did I. After three years of reading psychology at Leicester I had new choices and inspired by a daughter who had worked in Vietnam, my husband and joined VSO. Firstly we worked in West Africa, then Pakistan, and later, Viet Nam too. VSO had an advertising slogan around that time which said ‘What did you do last year, and will you remember it for the rest of your life?’ For us, immersion in these cultures brought exciting new experiences almost every day and the urge to record and share them with loved ones led to a new phase of writing that has continued beyond expectations. And the newsletters are still around. Maybe, one day, they’ll emerge again, in another book or two. After all, I’ve got the bug.

***

Many thanks for visiting today Kathryn. I’m so glad you listened to your wise coffee drinking friend.

Good luck with Thicker than Soup and all your future stories!

Jenny x

Happy Birthday Romancing Robin Hood!

By Jenny Kane

On August 25, 2015

In Blog, Contemporary fiction, Contemporary Romantic Fiction, crime, Fiction, Historical fiction

Believe it or not, Romancing Robin Hood, is a year old!

I had SO much fun writing this novel, which was largely based on my own obsession with Robin Hood and the work I did on my PhD – far too many years ago to mention!!

To celebrate Romancing Robin Hood’s birthday, I thought I’d share a little of the novel with you. Here’s the blurb to help set the scene.

Blurb

Dr Grace Harper has loved the stories of Robin Hood ever since she first saw them on TV as a girl. Now, with her fortieth birthday just around the corner, she’s a successful academic in Medieval History, with a tenured position at a top university.

But Grace is in a bit of a rut. She’s supposed to be writing a textbook on a real-life medieval gang of high-class criminals – the Folvilles – but she keeps being drawn into the world of the novel she’s secretly writing – a novel which entwines the Folvilles with her long-time love of Robin Hood – and a feisty young girl named Mathilda, who is the key to a medieval mystery…

Meanwhile, Grace’s best friend Daisy – who’s as keen on animals as Grace is on the Merry Men – is unexpectedly getting married, and a reluctant Grace is press-ganged into being her bridesmaid. As Grace sees Daisy’s new-found happiness, she starts to re-evaluate her own life. Is her devotion to a man who may or may not have lived hundreds of years ago really a substitute for a real-life hero of her own? It doesn’t get any easier when she meets Dr Robert Franks – a rival academic who Grace is determined to dislike but finds herself being increasingly drawn to…

***

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.

With her wedding approaching fast, Grace’s best friend Daisy 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-

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

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

Nook – http://www.nook.com/gb/ebooks/romancing-robin-hood-by-jenny-kane/9781783754267

Kobo- https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/romancing-robin-hood

I’m off to blow out Romancing Robin Hood’s birthday candles now!!

Happy reading

Jenny xx

Guest Interview with Lynne Shelby: French Kissing

By Jenny Kane

On August 18, 2015

In Blog, Contemporary fiction, Contemporary Romantic Fiction, Fiction

When I was at the Romantic Novelist Association Conference a few weeks ago I was lucky enough to meet quite a few fellow Accent authors. One of them was the delightful Lynne Shelby, who kindly agreed to be interviewed.

So go and grab a quick cuppa and a nice slice of cake, put your feet up for a moment, and have a little read…

What inspired you to write your book?

I was travelling back to London from Paris on the Eurostar, and a Frenchman sitting across the aisle spent the journey telephoning his English friends telling them that he, François, was coming to London and suggesting they meet up. Unfortunately none of his friends wanted to see him. By the time we reached Kent, I was feeling very sorry for François, and I’d also had an idea for a story about a Frenchman who comes to England and is met off the train by an English girl who is very pleased to see him. These characters became Alexandre and Anna in French Kissing.

Do you model any of your characters after people you know? If so, do these people see themselves in your characters?

I don’t model the characters on people I know, but some of the incidents in French Kissing have happened to people I know – I do make sure that I’ve disguised them enough that no-one recognizes themselves!

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

As French Kissing is set in contemporary London and Paris, most of my research was things like checking street names, and making sure I put well-known buildings in the right places! The most enjoyable bit of research was going to Paris for a few days – it’s one of my favourite cities – and visiting the places that my hero, Alexandre, takes my heroine, Anna.

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

I write in the first person because I find this lets me really get inside the head of my heroine.

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

When I start writing, I know the beginning and end of my story, but go with the flow in the middle. There seems to be a moment when the characters take over! Sometimes I do plot a chapter, if I know I need to get in a twist in the story at that particular point.

Lynne Shelby

What is your writing regime?

I’d like to say that I get up at 6.00 am, and after going for a run, write 2,000 words before breakfast. In reality, I do usually sit down at my desk by about 9.00 and aim for about 1,000 words before a late lunch.

What excites you the most about your book?

French Kissing is my debut novel, and I’ve found everything about getting published, from the moment I won the Accent Press and Woman Writing Competition, incredibly exciting. The thought that my story is being read is wonderful – it really is a dream come true.

You can buy French Kissing from all good retailers including-

Amazon: https://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_c_0_14?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=french+kissing+lynne+shelby&sprefix=French+Kissing%2Caps%2C177

***

Bio

Lynne Shelby writes contemporary romance, because that’s what she likes reading the most.

In January 2015 she was thrilled to win the Accent Press & Woman Magazine Writing Competition, and her debut novel ‘French Kissing’ is published by Accent Press.

She has worked in a variety of ‘day jobs’ from stable girl to legal administrator, and is inspired to write by the many wonderful foreign cities that she has visited and explored with a camera and writer’s notebook in hand: Rome, Barcelona Reykjavik Venice, New York, Copenhagen, Berlin and of course Paris, the city which inspired her to write ‘French Kissing.’

Website: http://www.lynneshelby.com/

Twitter: @LynneB1

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LynneShelbyWriter

***

Many thanks for stopping by for a coffee Lynne- great interview.

Happy reading,

Jenny x

Café time all the time…

By Jenny Kane

On August 16, 2015

In Blog, Books For Children, Contemporary fiction, Contemporary Romantic Fiction, crime, Fiction

Anyone who reads this blog knows that I have a serious coffee shop habit! I am addicted- not just to the coffee itself- but to the cafes themselves. I just love them- all of them. From the mega chains, to the little independent cafes, the truckers rest stops, and the coffee stops tucked away in department stores- I adore every one of them.

I love to watch the people around me, to smile at strangers to see how they respond, to wrap my hands around a coffee mug and inhale the aroma of the drink within. For me, there is something very soothing about these places. Whether they are jammed packed and noisy, or as quiet as the proverbial grave, with myself being the only one in residence,. I simply feel at home in coffee shops. It is for this reason that, when I was offered a job as coffee shop blogger for Phoenix Somerset, I snapped the opportunity right on up! I mean, why wouldn’t I!

I call my coffee blog Have Americano and Pen…Will Travel Each week I visit a new coffee shop somewhere in Somerset, and work from there for a while- it’s a fantastic job !

It won’t surprise you to learn then, that every novel I have ever written has taken shape in various different coffee shops.

From my earliest days writing children’s stories (I used to go into schools and jump around, making up tales about cows, hats, and Doctor Who- yes Doctor Who), to my erotica, my poetry (my writing life began as a poet), and on to my romances, each has begun life with a cup of café poured black coffee to hand.

It seemed totally natural to me therefore, that when I came to create my first non-erotic novel, to make coffee shops the main places of meeting and discussion for the main characters.

The coffee shop that features most within Another Cup of Coffee is Pickwicks. Tucked away on a side street in Richmond, London, Pickwicks is run by the ever bubbly Peggy, and her husband Scott. It is here that, newly arrived in London from Scotland, Amy is to find a refuge from her troubles, a temporary job, a possible future, and a potential friend in Kit- a woman who spends her days sat in the corner of Pickwicks writing erotic stories for an American Internet company…

Each and every day I begin by visiting a café, pen and notebook to hand. I’ll be honest, I get really grumpy if my day doesn’t begin with a good black Americano, and a good dose of inspirational people watching!

Who says coffee shops are just for drinking coffee???

Happy reading,

Jenny xx

Guest Blog from Gilly Stewart: Inspiration for the Lost Woman

By Jenny Kane

On August 13, 2015

In Blog, Contemporary fiction, Fiction

Today I’m delighted to welcome the lovely Gilly Stewart to my site. Gilly is going to give us the low down on her latest noel, The Lost Woman.

Over to you Gilly…

Sometimes the setting for a book is what inspires me, sometimes a character. But only once has the entire plot for a book come to me fully formed. This was the case with The Lost Woman, published last month by Accent Press.

I was on a writing retreat, on my own staying in a timeshare in the Perthshire Highlands. My company was favourite dog, Una, a collie-cross. Every afternoon I gave myself a break from writing and took Una for a walk. One day, as we descended a track from the hills, I saw a car parked in a lay-bye on the road beside the loch. For some reason I was intrigued. It wasn’t the normal time of year for tourists (I think it was February) and the car had a slightly down-at-heel look about it. I remember going to peer inside the car, in case it had one of those notes on the dashboard ‘Gone walking up X, expect to return by Y’. Conscientious lone walkers sometimes leave them. But there was nothing.

And as I began to walk along the side of the loch back to my lodgings the story unfolded for me. A middle-aged woman who had parked the car and gone walking in the hills. An established local family who were trying to launch a tourism business, in a magnificent grey-stone house like that one I’d passed not far back. The heroine, Catherine, short, curvy, dark-haired, bossy. And yes, they were all there: her three brothers and the irritating father. And the hero, Haydn, who walked up the drive to Annat House. And then I had the first words Catherine said to him: ‘I have nothing to say’.

I was off! I got home, editing of existing manuscript forgotten, and began to write notes and then whole scenes for the new book. Of course, it wasn’t all plain sailing. As any writer knows, parts of a book are pure hard slog. And then there were the changes I had to make because it never seemed to turn out quite so well on paper as it had in my mind. And then the edits came back from my lovely (now departed) agent Dot Lumley, who pointed out weaknesses I hadn’t been able to spot myself.

But throughout all that it still was, essentially, the same book. I wish all books came to me as easily as that one! Maybe I need to take a few more writing retreats …

I’ve just read Jenny Harper’s blog at http://jennyharperauthor.co.uk/its-real-a-paperback-emerges-from-the-wisp-of-an-idea/ about how the process of getting from idea to finished book works for her, and I realise how different we are. I really don’t think I could do a 7,000 – 10,000 word synopsis before I started writing. That is so admirable! I have to start while the ideas are there … and hope for the best. But if we were all the same, think what a boring world it would be.

EXTRACT FROM ‘THE LOST WOMAN’

The Lost Woman was a source of serious aggravation to Catherine McDonald. There had been no peace ever since She had put in her appearance – or should that be disappearance? First it was the police, then the journalists. Even the locals seemed to be obsessed. And it wasn’t the sort of publicity you wanted when you were on the verge of launching a major tourism venture.

Catherine watched grimly as yet another stranger walked up her private driveway. She swung open the massive front door before he had time to ring the bell.

‘I’ve got nothing to say,’ she said.

The man paused with one hand raised to knock. ‘Haven’t you?’ He was a tall man, forty-ish, with neatly cut mousey-brown hair and amusement in his eyes. ‘How fascinating. What is it about which you have nothing to say?’

Catherine glared. He was one of the clever-clever ones, was he? ‘About the Lost Woman, of course.’

‘Ah. Of course.’ He smiled down at her. ‘And the Lost Woman would be …?’

For the first time Catherine began to doubt her assumption. The man wore smart black trousers, a dark jersey, and a long dark woollen coat, not normal journalist attire.

‘I suppose there’s no point asking if you’re a journalist? They all deny it.’

‘It’s true, I would deny it. It’s not a profession I’m very fond of.’

Catherine sighed. She really didn’t have time for this. ‘OK, supposing you tell me what it is you do want?’

‘What I want now is to learn all about the Lost Woman. You’ve got me enthralled. Is she really lost? Is it an ancient myth or a modern tragedy? Do tell.’ He leant one shoulder against the door jamb, apparently settling in for a long conversation.

‘Everyone knows. That’s why they come here, isn’t it?’

‘It is?’

‘Look, the Lost Woman is some stupid woman who parked her car at the bottom of our track and went walking in the mountains.’ She gestured to the range which rose in peak beyond misty peak behind Annat House. ‘And she hasn’t been seen since.’

‘How interesting,’ he said. ‘And was this recently?’

‘Look, please stop pulling my leg. Everyone knows about the Lost Woman.’

The man gave this some thought. ‘I don’t think everyone can know, if I don’t. Although, to be fair, I have been out of the country for several weeks, perhaps that explains my ignorance.’

‘It was five weeks ago. Six this weekend. You can’t have heard no news for that long.’

‘You don’t think so?’ A frown marred his rather handsome face. ‘I’ve never been an avid reader of newspapers, and I find the sort of coverage one gets on television these days a trifle vulgar, don’t you? Perhaps that would explain my lamentable lapse.’

Catherine began to laugh. The man was mad, but amusing with it.

‘OK. So if you’re not here to ask about the Lost Woman, how can I help you?’ She recalled that in the old days strangers did come knocking on the door, in need of information or directions. ‘Are you lost?’

‘No, I don’t think so. I saw signs for Annat School a little way back, so I know roughly where I am.’

‘Ah, you’re looking for the school.’ Catherine was relieved to be getting answers at last. ‘It’s not far away. You need to go another couple of miles and you’ll see a large Victorian-gothic building on your right, can’t miss it. Distances are deceptive, aren’t they, on these winding roads? A lot of people turn back thinking they’ve gone too far.’

‘It’s a popular school, is it?’

‘I believe so. A healthy outdoor Scottish education is apparently quite the thing. We haven’t had much to do with it since my brothers left, but it was very well thought of then.’ Catherine thought briefly of the time when her mother had still been alive and they had been an almost happy family. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. ‘I suppose you have a child you’re considering sending there?’

‘I have a son, yes.’

‘Just the one? How old is he?’ Catherine felt obliged to add, ‘I’m not a great fan of boarding schools myself.’

‘Richie’s ten. Or is it eleven? I tend to forget.’

‘I believe they prefer to take them from eight. Most prep schools do. Didn’t they tell you that on the phone?’

‘I haven’t spoken to them on the phone.’

In Catherine’s opinion this man was rather too lackadaisical, and she was sure the head teacher would agree. ‘I don’t think they are very keen on people just dropping in,’ she said severely.

‘No, I can see that might be inconvenient.’ He smiled. ‘People can be so inconsiderate, can’t they? When all it would have taken is a mere phone call in advance …’

Catherine was beginning to feel she was losing control of this conversation, an unusual experience. ‘Is that it, then?’ she said, making an effort to get back on track. ‘If you do decide to take a look at the school it’s two miles further on. You’ll have no problem finding it.’ She moved as if to close the door.

‘Actually,’ said the man, leaning forward confidentially, ‘Actually, I was hoping to use your telephone.’

‘The phone?’

‘Yes. Did you know that mobiles don’t work out here? I need to call the AA.’

‘Of course I know that mobiles don’t work. This is the Highlands, you know.’

He nodded politely. ‘I should have realised.’

‘So your car has broken down?’ said Catherine slowly.

‘Yes. At least, it appears to have. The engine died and it’s certainly not starting when I turn the ignition. I’ve an inkling it might be the starter motor, or spark plugs, something like that. I don’t suppose you know about these things?’

‘Absolutely not,’ said Catherine, exasperated. ‘Look, come in. You can use the phone here.’ She stood back abruptly to allow him into the wood-panelled hall…

Buy link for The Lone Woman

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B012J29WJG

Copyright Kim Ayres – www.kimayres.co.uk – images licensed for unlimited reproduction and distribution for personal and promotional use, so long as Kim Ayres (www.kimayres.co.uk) is identified and credited as the image creator and copyright holder. Not to be used for commercial purposes without renegotiation with the copyright holder.

BIO

Gilly Stewart was born in Lancashire and lived in Yorkshire and Cheshire until the age of 15, when her family moved to South Africa. At 21 she moved to France, and then tried Zimbabwe before finding the perfect country: Scotland. She has had many jobs including au pair, cleaner, teacher and accountant, but her first love has always been writing. She has had four romantic novellas published under the pen-name Gillian Villiers and in March 2015 she published her first Young Adult novel Music and Lies under the pen-name Gill-Marie Stewart

The Lost Woman is her second women’s contemporary novel and is published by Accent Press. They brought out her first novel, Sunshine Through The Rain, in April 2015.

Gilly lives on a farm in rural Dumfriesshire with five chickens, four dogs, three cats, a husband and many, many books. Her two student sons deign to visit occasionally.

LINKS

Website https://gillystewartwriter.wordpress.com/

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/GillyStewartWriter

***

Many thanks for such a great blog Gilly.

Happy reading everyone,

Jenny x

Guest Blog from Marie Laval: One night under the stars

By Jenny Kane

On August 11, 2015

In Blog, Fiction, Historical fiction, Romance

I’m delighted to welcome fellow Accent Press author, Marie Laval, back to my site to talk about her new release, The Lion’s Embrace. I have to say, it sounds fascinating.

Over to you Marie…

Thank you very much Jenny for welcoming me on your blog today to talk about my latest release. THE LION’S EMBRACE is my second historical romance and takes place mostly in North Africa, in Algeria to be exact, in 1845. Lucas Saintclair is hired as a guide by Harriet Montague to rescue her father, a British Museum archaeologist, who she believes was captured by a gang of Tuaregs in the far South of the country.

Writing THE LION’S EMBRACE was a fascinating process, not only because I got to fall in love with my hero (I know, it sounds very, very corny, but it’s true!), but also because I discovered the beautiful landscapes Lucas and Harriet travelled through on their way to Tamanrasset, and the culture of the people they encountered. One particular group of people are at the centre of the plot: the Tuaregs, also called ‘The People of the Veil’ or the ‘Blue Men of the Desert’ because of the indigo veil all men have to wear from around the age of fifteen.

I surrounded myself with photos of the Sahara, of oases and the magnificent Hoggar mountain range. I read Tuareg poems and stories and listened to music so that I could get a real ‘feel’ for the place and the people since I couldn’t travel there myself.

Hoggar Mountains

One song in particular caught my imagination and I played it over and over again as I wrote THE LION’S EMBRACE. It’s a modern song and I have no idea what they are singing about, but I find the melody poignant and haunting, especially the monochord violin, the imzad, which can be heard throughout.

The imzad is a traditional Tuareg instrument only played by women. It is at the heart of the Tuareg culture and society because of its link to the Achak, the code of honour every Tuareg must live by. Those who stray from the path and commit dishonourable acts are said to have lost the ability to ‘hear the imzad’ in their heart and are therefore cast out of their family and their tribe.

Here is the link to the song:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E5z7AcjE-YI

As they travel across the Sahara desert, Lucas Saintclair and Harriet Montague spend a few days with a Tuareg caravan. Every evening, they sit under the stars and listen to musicians playing the imzad and to stories and poems. The story-teller pulls out round pebbles out of his ‘bag of tales’, which is a skin pouch. Each pebble represents a different story and he tells the stories in the order the pebbles were drawn from the bag.

This is an excerpt from THE LION’S EMBRACE when Lucas and Harriet are at the Tuareg camp. The tale is based on a genuine Tuareg story.

The women played their instruments all along, drawing long, monochord sounds that at times sounded almost like laments and perfectly matched the mood of the audience, silent and attentive under the starry sky.

By the end of the evening, Harriet shivered with cold. Lucas wrapped his arm around her shoulders to keep her warm.

‘The brave is reaching the end of his journey,’ he translated, his voice low and a little hoarse. ‘After wandering in the desert for weeks, he finally finds his beloved’s camp, but it is empty under the stars. Only the cruel wind answers his prayers, and as the cool moonlight kisses his lips, the vast spaces full of solitude chill his heart. So he lies on the sand and waits to die.’ He paused. ‘And that’s love for you. Brings you nothing but pain.’

Despite his slightly mocking tone, the words made her dreamy.

‘It’s beautiful, and so sad.’ She found his hand, squeezed a little. ‘Love isn’t all pain, you know. It can be the most wonderful feeling in the world.’

She should know.

***

Thank you again Jenny for welcoming me on your blog.

Here is the blurb for THE LION’S EMBRACE

Algiers, 1845

Arrogant, selfish and dangerous, Lucas Saintclair is everything Harriet Montague dislikes in a man. He is also the best guide in the whole of the Barbary States, the only man who can rescue her archaeologist father from the gang of Tuareg fighters that has kidnapped him. As Harriet embarks on a perilous journey across Algeria with Saintclair and Archibald Drake, her father’s most trusted friend, she discovers a bewitching but brutal land where nothing is what it seems. Who are these men intent on stealing her father’s ransom? What was her father hoping to find in Tuareg queen Tin Hinan’s tomb? Is Lucas Saintclair really as callous as he claims—or is he a man haunted by a past he cannot forgive?

Dangerous passions engulf Harriet’s heart in the heat of the Sahara. Secrets of lost treasures, rebel fighters, and a sinister criminal brotherhood threaten her life and the life of the man she loves.

Does forever lie in the lion’s embrace?

***

THE LION’S EMBRACE is available from

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Lions-Embrace-Marie-Laval-ebook/dp/B013GSVJJI/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

and in paperback from Áccent Press

You can find me at http://marielaval.blogspot.co.uk/

https://www.facebook.com/marielavalauthor?fref=ts

https://uk.pinterest.com/laval0232/

Author Bio

Originally from Lyon in France, I have been living in the lovely Rossendale Valley, Lancashire, for the past few years. I spend most of my spare time dreaming up romantic stories. A SPELL IN PROVENCE, my first contemporary romantic suspense, was released by Áccent Press earlier this year. ANGEL HEART, my debut historical romance and THE LION’S EMBRACE have just been re-released by Áccent Press too. And watch out for DANCING FOR THE DEVIL, another historical romance, which will be published in the autumn …

***

Many thanks to Marie for such an interesting blog. Another book to add to my ‘to read’ list!

Happy reading,

Jenny x

Holidayed and Home Again!

By Jenny Kane

On August 10, 2015

In Books For Children, Contemporary Romantic Fiction, Fiction, News

Hello lovely readers!

Here I am freshly returned from my annual 7 day break from holding a pen! This year my family and I took our first trip to Portugal- and I think you could say it started eventfully! I’ve written up a holiday blog on my other site- so if you’d like a read (and you are over 18) then take a peep – http://kayjaybee.me.uk/news/sunshine-scenery-and-sitting-but-not-writing/

It was lovely to have a little break, but I’m back now and happily sat in my usual corner in my coffee shop catching up on all the news, and occasionally picking up and cuddling the latest arrival to my book collection!

I have to say, Ben’s Biscuit Tin Adventure feels just beautiful in the hand!

Having roasted in the Portuguese sunshine for the past seven days, it’s actually rather nice to be home in the cool rain of England. The fact that it is a bit Autumn-ish today is certainly helping me get back into the swing of writing my Christmas novella! I’ve just had a sneaking peek of the cover…can’t wait to share it with you!

So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m away to my festive wordage!

Happy reading,

Jenny xx

Guest Post from Kirsten McKenzie: The Hand of Publishing Fate

By Jenny Kane

On July 20, 2015

In Blog, Contemporary fiction, Contemporary Romantic Fiction, Fiction

I am thrilled to have the wonderful Kirsten McKenzie visiting my blog today. This is a fantastic blog, which has winged its way through the email ether from the distant shores of New Zealand.

Over to you Kirsten…

My first book has just been published by Accent Press – ‘Fifteen Postcards’. A novel traversing three continents and two centuries. A blend of ‘The Far Pavilions’, with a touch of ‘The Time Travelers Wife’, rolled together with a smidgeon of the ‘Antique’s Roadshow’. If it wasn’t for my father dying, it would never have been written.

I had a pretty standard upbringing in New Zealand in the 70s. Dad had his own business – an antique shop, and worked long hours. Mum raised my younger brother and I. She was the one who went on all the school trips, picked us up after school, and took us to our after school activities. In the school holidays, my ideal day was helping Dad at the shop, Antique Alley – a literal treasure trove, and described as an Auckland icon. A shop heaving with stock, which invariably overflowed onto the floor, and filled the corridors, very much like how I described ‘The Old Curiosity Shop’ in ‘Fifteen Postcards’.

Initially I was allowed to sit in the corner and sell postcards. As I got older I was promoted to serving behind the counter, helping customers choose gold bracelets for gifts, or give advice about which dinner service looked better. I worked off and on at the shop, and at antique fairs up and down the country, right through school and university. By osmosis I picked up a small amount of knowledge about a lot of things.

Then in 2005 Dad died.

My brother and I both quit our jobs (I was a Customs Officer), and started working at the shop. Ostensibly to provide our mother with an income, but it was also a job I had once loved, and although I’d never pursued it, I was more than happy to stand behind the shop counter and carry on where I’d left off in my late teens.

Working at the shop was a way to reconnect with my father. Antique Alley was such a part of his personality that walking into the shop became a way to keep his memory alive. Even today, nine years after his death, when I unlock the front door, and close the world off behind me as I sprint inside to turn off the alarm, I’ll murmur “Hello Dad”. Often followed by a little “Let this be a good day Dad!”. That may make me sound slightly nutty, but it gives me a sense of connectivity with my father, whom I miss everyday.

Writing ‘Fifteen Postcards’ in 2013 was part homage to my father, and part the realisation of a long held desire to write a book. Scattered throughout the book are snippets of his life and his quirks. My parents really did live above the shop before I came onto the scene, just like ‘Sarah’s parents in the book. My grandmother papered the lounge room upstairs in an appalling mixture of prints and floral paper (as described in the book), which Mum still detests to this day (there’s so much stock in that room now that it would be a marathon effort to strip it all back!). It was amusing remembering all of Dad’s foibles and fantastic sayings, weaving them into a plot worthy of his knowledge and expertise in the antique industry. It also became abundantly clear that my ‘small amount of knowledge about a lot of things’ wasn’t at all sufficient for a historical fiction novel, but that’s the basis of another blog post!

They say finding a publisher is one of the hardest parts of writing a book. I had rejections, five to be precise, but one of the publishers I submitted to, Accent Press, offered me a publishing contract. Which I signed. Why did I submit my manuscript to them? That was partly to do with Dad. He was born in Wales, moving to New Zealand when he was three. As an adult he returned to Wales to work and to reconnect with his extended family. I like to think Dad had a small part to play in me choosing Accent Press, who are based in Wales, and in them choosing me.

This is where it starts getting slightly more ‘Twilight Zone’. Bear with me as I talk you through it… David Powell was the incredible editor who worked on ‘Fifteen Postcards’. Without him, my book wouldn’t be anywhere near as awesome as it is. Weirdly, my father’s name was David. Fate? Coincidence? It keeps going. Accent Press released my book on the 21st of May, Mum’s birthday. Yes, yes, a strange collection of coincidences, but as someone still living with the grief of losing my father unexpectedly, these coincidences have given me some measure of solace, a belief that there has been a higher power at work, helping and guiding me.

The only time I haven’t felt Dad’s presence at work, was when I was held up at gunpoint in 2009. With a gun to my head, I was forced to sit on the ground whilst two men stole the jewellery from our cabinets. When Dad was alive, he’d always counseled that nothing in the shop was worth my life, and if anyone tried to rob the shop, I wasn’t to fight back. With that counsel firmly imprinted in my brain, I did just that. I sat there. I screamed a few times, hoping to attract the attention of someone outside, but stopped when they told me to stop screaming or they’d shoot me. I shut up after that. The armed robbery also made it into the pages of ‘Fifteen Postcards’. Writing that part of the manuscript was more difficult than I initially imagined, but also cathartic. I’ve never watched the CCTV footage of the robbery although I can give you a frame by frame playback, as the memory is still so vivid. Putting it down on paper has helped me get over it. Many, many bottles of red wine have also helped…

I am in the wonderful position of loving my job, as my father did, selling other people’s treasures. Everything in the shop was once loved and desired, all just waiting for their new home. It’s the ultimate in recycling. But isn’t that what writing is? The recycling of memories?

The writing of ‘Fifteen Postcards’ has captured some of my memories, hidden amongst the fictional plot and a cast of nefarious characters. And for that I am truly grateful to the hand of fate, or the confluence of coincidences.

****

Many thanks to Kirsten for such a wonderful, and very moving, blog. You can find out all about Kirsten and her work by following these links-

twitter.com/kiwimrsmac
facebook.com/KirstenMcKenzieAuthor
www.kirstenmckenzie.com
goodreads.com/KirstenMcKenzieAuthor

You find the buy link to Fifteen Postcards here– myBook.to/FifteenPostcards

Happy reading,

Jenny x

Sand in My Shoes: A Taste of Summer from Jenny Harper

By Jenny Kane

On July 18, 2015

In Blog, Contemporary fiction, Contemporary Romantic Fiction, Fiction

Today I’m delighted to be able to share with you a tasty snippet from the lovely Jenny Harper’s new summertime novella, Sand in my Shoes.

At only 99p or 99c, Sand in my Shoes is an absolute bargain!!

Here’s the blurb-

A trip to France awakens the past in this heartwarming summer read from the author of People We Love.
Head teacher Nicola Arnott prides herself on her independence. She has successfully juggled motherhood and career, coping with early widowhood by burying her emotions somewhere deep inside herself. When a cancer scare shakes her out of her careful approach to life, she finds herself thinking wistfully of her first love, a young French medical student.
She decides to revisit the sleepy French town she remembers from her teenage years – and is astonished to meet up with Luc again. The old chemistry is still there – but so is something far more precious: a deep and enduring friendship.
Can it turn into true love?

****

Let me whet your appetite with this extract from Jenny’s engaging European romance…

Nicola Arnott pushed open the French windows onto the balcony of the apartment she had just rented, and stepped out Above her, the blue and white striped canopy offered shade, but not coolness. She gasped – not at the heat, but at the view. She’d seen it, of course, on the letting agent’s particulars – after all, it was the view that dictated the price, not the apartment’s facilities, which were meagre – but no photograph could do justice to the panorama that greeted her.

She’d enjoyed so many holidays in France with David – in the Loire valley and the Dordogne, on the Côte d’Azur and in some of the country’s great cities – before Eleanor had been born. After that, they’d had so little time together before he’d been snatched from her. Now she was back.

She watched a dinghy tack and change direction, its sails startlingly white against the bright blue waters of the Bassin d’Arcachon. Picture postcard perfect.

Unthinking, she grasped the balcony rail and yelped. It was burning hot.

Nicola felt no pain when she thought of David, only love. But all memories were softened by time. If she were really honest, hadn’t they fought over everything? Whether to get up early to explore or laze in bed till midday. Whether to open the window at night or keep it closed. Whether to walk or take a taxi. Little things. Things that didn’t matter, but niggles that were easy to forget in the aftermath of loss.

It hadn’t been real fighting, just bickering – the kind of bubbling undertow that characterises many relationships but doesn’t affect the core.

She stood and stretched. Here she was, reminiscing already, and she hadn’t even unpacked. In any case, David had died twenty years ago and she had rebuilt her life since then. She had her work – at the primary school where she was headteacher – wonderful colleagues and friends, and several hundred children who filled her days with laughter and young life, and gave her all the challenges she could wish for. She had Eleanor, her daughter, and she had her beloved West Highland terrier, Darcy. So what if she hadn’t found love a second time? That had been partly circumstance, partly choice.

The boat had tacked again. Now it was heading for the low islands off the Grande Dune du Pilat, the magnificent three-hundred-and-sixty-foot-high natural sand dune that was one of the main tourist attractions of the area. She knew the islands well. Hadn’t she sailed there with Luc that extraordinary summer?

Sweet sixteen, and never been kissed? She’d celebrated her seventeenth birthday on the third day of her holiday in Arcachon with her parents. The night she’d met Luc. The memory of it made her smile, the sense of him stronger now that she was back here.

Stupid.

She pulled a chair towards her. Its metal feet, grating on the tiled floor of the balcony, set her teeth on edge and she sank onto it with a grimace.

So much to think about. So many memories. And so many worries about what the future held…

***

If you would like to buy Sand in my Shoes, it is available from all good e-retailers including-

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Sand-My-Shoes-Summer-Special-ebook-x/dp/B00YEV1HQW/ref=sr_1_15?ie=UTF8&qid=1436782857&sr=8-15&keywords=Jenny+Harper

http://www.amazon.com/Sand-My-Shoes-Summer-Novella-ebook/dp/B00YEV1HQW/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1436947440&sr=8-1&keywords=Sand+in+my+shoes+Jenny+Harper

Happy reading,

Jenny xxx

The Romantic Novelist’s Association Conference: A Lesson in Hope and Hanging in There

By Jenny Kane

On July 15, 2015

In Blog, Contemporary fiction, Contemporary Romantic Fiction, Fiction

This weekend I was lucky enough to attend my very first Romantic Novelist’s Association (RNA) Conference. I use the word ‘lucky’ advisedly, because as with First Great Western trains were on strike, I had to take a very imaginative route to actually get from Devon to London. But it was very much worth it.

Jenny Kane and Kd Grace

Over the years I have attended many writing events and conferences, but they have all been of the more ‘adult’ variety. This was the first time I had been to one as ‘Jenny’ and not ‘Kay.’ As my train pulled into Waterloo my sense of excitement was great. Not only was I going to meet some of my fellow Accent authors and my dear ‘Xcite’ friend Kd Grace (aka Grace Marshall), but I was actually going to an event! I have missed loads of amazing events lately due to a trapped nerve in my leg, and I felt like a child off to meet Father Christmas as I walked through London, heading towards Queen Mary’s University, and my first major gathering of romance writers.

With a schedule that was so packed with great talks and workshops, it was a challenge to choose which to attend. I may have been in the writing game for nearly 11 years, but I still have a great deal to learn, and this was the place to do it. With names as eminent as Katie Fforde, Julie Cohen and Jean Fullerton on the schedule, how could I fail not to come away with my head packed to the gunnels with ideas, inspiration- but most of all – hope.

Writing is a weird profession. You sit alone most of the time, trapped in your imagination and a world of ‘what if’s’ which you have invented. Even if other people are nearby, you are alone inside your own head so it is vital that we all get together sometimes, just to remind ourselves that we aren’t the only ones struggling to be noticed. To know that even the big names, working hour after hour in the hope that someone will buy their work when there are so many wonderful books to chose from, struggle sometimes.

We need to get together to learn, to laugh, to moan, discuss, let off steam, and give each other a boost- to say ‘you will make it’, ‘the next level is possible,’ and to hear that even the best writer’s in the world have downward lulls and bad sales now and then.

So although the classes were all excellent, what I will most remember from this years conference- and indeed- what was most useful to me- was the friendly sense of camaraderie. To see authors in the flesh after years of only communicating via Facebook was wonderful.

The amazing Hazel Cushion, manager of Accent Press, arranged a Pimms party for all the Accent authors, and anyone else who wanted to come along. Boy, can Hazel organise a good party. Standing in the sunshine by the canal that runs behind the university, I sipped my explosive cocktail while chatting to authors Richard Gould, Gilli Allan, Alison Rose, Lizzie Lane, Gill Stewart, Kat Black, Zoe Chamberlain and Kd Grace, along with the fabulous Rebecca Lloyd, ‘chief’ editor at Accent, her side kick, Cat Camacho, and many more smashing folk.

Hazel Cushion

Katrina Power, Cat Camacho and Alison Rose get the ice ready for the Pimms

It was at the party that one of my personal conference highlights occurred. The adorable Alison Rose introduced me to one of my writing heroes. I have long admired Katie Fforde for her books, and for the help she frequently gives other authors. And there she was, only a few feet from me. I have to admit, I had a tiny internal fan girl moment, which I seriously hope I swallowed down. Not only was Katie lovely to me, she had actually heard of me!! I floated on a cloud for a while after that I can tell you.

The conference was huge, and there were so many people it was impossible to meet everyone I would have liked to spend time with, but everyone I did meet was friendly, helpful and encouraging. At a time in my writing career where so many options are possible- if I am brave enough to take the scary steps towards them- then it was just perfect to have so much helpful advice and a much needed injection of hope, and the oft spoken words ‘Hang in there’ ringing in my ears.

Here are a few photos of us mad writer types as we reveal in the joy that is being with other writers.

Gilli Allan and Kd Grace take a coffee break

Books for sale

Gala Dinner in the Octagon Library

Richard Gould and Lizzie Lane

My thanks to Eileen Ramsey, Jan Jones, Kate Thomson, and everyone else who organised such an amazing event. If you are interested in joining the RNA, or you want to attend next years conference (which will be in Lancaster), then you can find all the details here- http://www.rna-uk.org/

Happy reading,

Jenny x

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

Tag: writing Page 19 of 26

Guest Blog from Kathryn Joyce: A for Author, B for Book, and C for Challenge.

Happy Birthday Romancing Robin Hood!

Guest Interview with Lynne Shelby: French Kissing

Café time all the time…

Guest Blog from Gilly Stewart: Inspiration for the Lost Woman

Guest Blog from Marie Laval: One night under the stars

Holidayed and Home Again!

Guest Post from Kirsten McKenzie: The Hand of Publishing Fate

Sand in My Shoes: A Taste of Summer from Jenny Harper

The Romantic Novelist’s Association Conference: A Lesson in Hope and Hanging in There

Tag: writing Page 19 of 26

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: