Today it’s my very great pleasure to welcome Toni Jenkins onto Linda’s Book Bag. I met Toni recently at a blogger and author lunch and just had to invite her onto the blog. Toni has kindly provided a wonderful guest post with a letter to herself all about the road to publication for her book The Sender that I think makes fascinating reading.

Speaking with Toni in Edinburgh

Toni’s book The Sender was published by New Generation on 17th December 2015 and is available in hardback, e-book and paperback here in the UK and here in the US.

The Sender

Can an inspirational card from a secret sender really help change your life? For Abby, Kat, Patti and Tessa, it seems to hold that extraordinary quality. The card instructs each woman to hold it in their possession for six months before sending it on, with an invitation to meet the sender two years from the date of its inception.

From Edinburgh to Glasgow, York to Cambridge, the card is sent on a journey to impart its magic.

But who is the sender and what was their motive? And why were they the chosen ones?

A letter to the youthful writer, Toni

A Guest Post by Toni Jenkins

Dear Toni,

I know what you’re thinking – you’ll never get to see a book with your name on it sitting on a bookshelf. Well, let me tell you, you’re wrong. It will take decades to happen but you mustn’t give up.

You still have some teenage years to live and I encourage you to keep producing those poems and short stories you love writing. They are laying a strong foundation for you to build on when you’re older and will finally take the plunge to become a novelist.

Read, read and read some more. Every writer needs to fertilise their brain with as many words, word combinations and story constructions as possible. Reading is essential to your writing. Take note of what you do like and what you don’t and always ask yourself why.

Remember that practice makes perfect. The more you write, the more you are honing your craft. Every word you write and every word you re-write is adding to your knowledge of what makes good writing better.

Learn to accept rejection. It’s part of being a writer. The stories you hear about writers being discovered and catapulted to stardom are true but as rare as black diamonds. Remember, these are the exceptions, never the rule. The millions of stories you don’t hear about are those of the passionate wordsmiths having their fingers bleed on their keyboards, pulling their hair out in frustration, and receiving yet another rejection letter in the post. The only thing to do is keep going. Don’t give up and don’t ever equate rejection with failure. They are totally separate things. You will only fail if you give up.

Meet with other writers, bloggers (yes, that’s a real word), publishers, agents and editors at every opportunity. Go to writing events and don’t be afraid to speak. You’ll find that, although the publishing industry can be a brutal business, it is also full to the brim with the kindest, most helpful people you will ever meet. Don’t be afraid to ask for help and always, always accept advice.

Join a writing group. Fellow writers who critique your work will be invaluable. Every writer needs feedback and these special people are both reader and writer. You can’t ask for better than that.

Share your own knowledge. Every writer’s journey is unique and, believe it or not, you will have your own nuggets of advice that will help others. Don’t underestimate that.

Block out time for your passion. Don’t let trivial things get in the way of committing to your writing time. You will find this is harder than you think, particularly when you’re feeling tired or down. But, where possible, put that aside and push on. Any writing is better than none at all, and this leads to the next bit.

As bizarre as it sounds, the delete key on your laptop is your friend. If you write junk, delete the junk. Don’t get too precious about your work. No-one will want to read rubbish writing so be objective when you’re editing. You’ll thank yourself later.

Continue to collect quotes. Believe it or not, you will also start writing them when you’re older. By the time you’re 45, you will have collected and written hundreds of quotes and they will become your most precious source for inspiration and comfort. Here are three that you won’t discover until you’re older but you should hear them now:

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.

Maya Angelou.

Writing is not always easy. If you don’t have calluses on your soul, this isn’t for you. Take up knitting instead.                                                                     

James Scott Bell.

You write your first draft with your heart, and you re-write with your head.

James Ellison, Finding Forrester.

Lastly, you can call yourself a writer already. When you write, you’re a writer. You don’t have to be J.K. Rowling to own that title. (Her name means nothing to you now but if you think that writing can’t change the world, just wait.)

Toni x

About Toni Jenkins

Toni’s passion for writing began when she was 9 years old and bored on a long car trip. With a notebook and pen in hand, she began writing comedic poems to pass the time and discovered a great love of playing with language and personifying objects, creating Walter Wall who yearned to travel and Debbie Drawing Pin who feared being typecast!

Over the years she ventured into short stories and began collecting and writing quotes, amassing hundreds of them since her childhood. Finally, in her early thirties, she took the plunge and wrote her first novel, cementing her desire to write contemporary fiction.

A second novel followed after being made redundant from her job in Dubai in the 2008 credit crisis. Grasping the opportunity for a ‘mature gap year’ and to live her dream – writing a novel in Italy – she rented an apartment in the beautiful village of Cisternino, Puglia, living in a country with no knowledge of the language or the local people. She set up her desk in the quaint stone apartment and wrote The Gift – the charming residents taking her in as part of the community, welcoming “the Inglese” with open arms. It remains as one of the most precious experiences of her life.

Following a TEFL course in Prague, Toni returned to the UK, trained as a CELTA teacher and moved into university employment, all the while developing her next novel, The Sender. She has a particular fondness for this story as, aside from exposing the complexities of relationships and the powerful consequences they can have, it also has a strong undercurrent of encouraging empathy and, in particular, spreading the message.

Currently she is working on a final edit of The Gift for release to the public, and constructing the bones for her next novel, The Underling. Toni is never short of ideas (the plots for 9 further books are simmering away!) but, unless she hits the jackpot, writing has to fit around her working life.

She lives in the city she fell instantly in love with in the mid-nineties, and is proud to call Edinburgh and the UK her home.

You can find out more about Toni and read an extract from The Sender on her website. You can follow Toni on Twitter and find her on Facebook.

I’m excited to be taking part in today’s wonderful cover reveal for House of Secrets by Lynda Stacey which will be published by Choc Lit on 19^th July 2016 and which is available to pre-order here as an eBook.

House of Secrets

A woman on the run, a broken man and a house with a shocking secret … 
Madeleine Frost has to get away. Her partner Liam has become increasingly controlling to the point that Maddie fears for her safety, and that of her young daughter Poppy …

Desperation leads Maddie to the hotel owned by her estranged father – the extraordinarily beautiful Wrea Head Hall in Yorkshire. There, she meets Christopher ‘Bandit’ Lawless, an ex-marine and the gamekeeper of the hall, whose brusque manner conceals a painful past.

After discovering a diary belonging to a previous owner, Maddie and Bandit find themselves immersed in the history of the old house, uncovering its secrets, scandals, tragedies – and, all the while, becoming closer.

But Liam still won’t let go, he wants Maddie back, and when Liam wants something he gets it, no matter who he hurts …

About Lynda Stacey

Lynda, is a wife, step-mother and grandmother, she grew up in the mining village of Bentley, Doncaster, in South Yorkshire.

She is currently the Sales Director of a stationery, office supplies and office furniture company in Doncaster, where she has worked for the past 25 years. Prior to this she’d also been a nurse, a model, an emergency first response instructor and a PADI Scuba Diving Instructor … and yes, she was crazy enough to dive in the sea with sharks, without a cage. Following a car accident in 2008, Lynda was left with limited mobility in her right arm. Unable to dive or teach anymore, she turned to her love of writing, a hobby she’d followed avidly since being a teenager.

Her own life story, along with varied career choices helps Lynda to create stories of romantic suspense, with challenging and unpredictable plots, along with (as in all romances) very happy endings.

Lynda joined the Romantic Novelist Association in 2014 under the umbrella of the New Writers Scheme and in 2015, her debut novel House of Secrets won the Choc Lit & Whole Story Audiobooks Search for a Star competition.

She lives in a small rural hamlet near Doncaster, with her ‘hero at home husband’, Haydn, whom she’s been happily married to for over 20 years.

You can follow Lynda on Twitter and visit her website.

My enormous thanks to Lovereading for an advanced reader copy of I Found You by Lisa Jewell in return for an honest review. I Found You will be published by Century, an imprint of Penguin Random House, in e-book and hardback on 14th July 2016 and is available to order from Lovereading, Amazon, Waterstones, W H Smith and all good bookshops.

I Found You

‘How long have you been sitting out here?’

‘I got here yesterday.’

‘Where did you come from?’

‘I have no idea.’

East Yorkshire: Single mum Alice Lake finds a man on the beach outside her house. He has no name, no jacket, no idea what he is doing there. Against her better judgement she invites him in to her home.

Surrey: Twenty-one-year-old Lily Monrose has only been married for three weeks. When her new husband fails to come home from work one night she is left stranded in a new country where she knows no one. Then the police tell her that her husband never existed.

Two women, twenty years of secrets and a man who can’t remember lie at the heart of Lisa Jewell’s brilliant new novel.

My Review of I Found You

With a man sitting unmoving on the beach for hours, Alice Lake can’t leave well alone. When she invites him into her home, events will turn out to be more than she bargained for.

Let me say at the outset that you do need to suspend your disbelief at one or two of the plot events and character actions in I Found You, but the writing is so good you don’t notice because the pace is stunning and enthralling.

I Found You is exciting, entertaining and a crackingly good read. I was gripped from the very first line of this thriller – if it’s right to call I Found You a thriller, because it has elements of crime, romance and contemporary fiction too so that there is something for everyone between its pages without it losing its identity as a brilliant story. In effect there are three narratives happening at the same time that weave together like DNA strands to form a fabulous whole. All the elements that make for a truly satisfying read are there. Lisa Jewell knows exactly how to drip feed information that compels the reader to want to read more and more and I found myself unable to put the book down. I loved the way the story built continuously, revealing itself to the reader at the same time as to the characters. It has layers like the onion Lily’s mother advises her to peel away!

I found all the characters life-like and convincing so that I cared what happened to them, especially Alice and ‘Frank’. Even the more minor characters like the children (and dogs) felt completely natural and whilst Kitty may act in ways we find hard to accept, she is entirely understandable. Without wishing to spoil the plot, I Found You made me wonder how I might react in similar circumstances.

What also appealed to me was the quality of the prose. I appreciated the past tense use for the events that occurred in the past and the present tense for the current events as it made the writing feel fresh and immediate. Lisa Jewell’s style flows so smoothly and I found her descriptions added just the right level of detail to bring the scenes and settings alive in my imagination. Similarly, I found the dialogue natural so that it felt as if I were eavesdropping conversations rather than reading a book.

There’s depth of emotions from fear to hatred, to love and friendship as well as a touch of humour to balance the darker elements of the writing. There are some important issues addressed by Lisa Jewell too. How would we behave in similar circumstances? What kind of effect can the past make on our present? How far should we judge our gut feelings or should we stick with conventionally acceptable approaches to others? Whilst I was thoroughly entertained and completely involved in the story, I have been left with  some thoughtful questions in my mind.

For those who like a feeling of humanity with their thrillers, I think Lisa Jewell’s I Found You is a perfect read. This is the first time I’ve read one of her books but it certainly won’t be the last.

You can find out more about Lisa Jewell by following her on Twitter, finding her on Facebook and visiting her website.

Having read and thoroughly enjoyed Summer at the Comfort Food Cafe by Debbie Johnson, I’m delighted to be part of the paperback launch celebrations. Published in e-book by Harper Impulse on 29th April 2016 Summer at the Comfort Food Cafe is now available in paperback as of 16th June 2016. It can be found with all Debbie’s books here.

You’ll find my review here, but I also have an extract for you today so you can judge for yourself!

Summer at the Comfort Food Cafe

The Comfort Food Cafe is perched on a windswept clifftop at what feels like the edge of the world, serving up the most delicious cream teas; beautifully baked breads, and carefully crafted cupcakes. For tourists and locals alike, the ramshackle cafe overlooking the beach is a beacon of laughter, companionship, and security – a place like no other; a place that offers friendship as a daily special, and where a hearty welcome is always on the menu.

For widowed mum-of-two Laura Walker, the decision to uproot her teenaged children and make the trek from Manchester to Dorset for the summer isn’t one she takes lightly, and it’s certainly not winning her any awards from her kids, Nate and Lizzie. Even her own parents think she’s gone mad.

But following the death of her beloved husband David two years earlier, Laura knows that it’s time to move on. To find a way to live without him, instead of just surviving. To find her new place in the world, and to fill the gap that he’s left in all their lives.

Her new job at the cafe, and the hilarious people she meets there, give Laura the chance she needs to make new friends; to learn to be herself again, and – just possibly – to learn to love again as well.

For her, the Comfort Food Cafe doesn’t just serve food – it serves a second chance to live her life to the full…

An extract from Summer at the Comfort Food Cafe

COOK WANTED – MUST BE COMFORTING

We are looking for a summer-season cook for our busy seaside café. The job will also involve taking orders and waiting on tables. The successful applicant will be naturally friendly, be able to boil an egg, enjoy a chat and have a well-developed sense of empathy with other human beings. Good sense of humour absolutely vital. The only experience required is experience of life, along with decent cooking skills. Pay is pitiful, but the position comes with six weeks’ free use of a luxury holiday cottage in a family-friendly setting near the Jurassic Coast, with use of a swimming pool, games room and playground. Children, dogs, cats, guinea pigs and stray maiden aunts all welcome. No application form needed – if you’re interested, send us your heart and soul in letter form, telling us why you think you’re right for the job. Post your essays to Cherie Moon, The Comfort Food Café, Willington Hill, near Budbury, Dorset.

Dear Cherie,

I’m writing to you about the job you advertised for a cook at the Comfort Food Café in Dorset.

This is about my sixth attempt at composing this letter, and all the rest have ended up as soggy, crumpled balls lying on the floor around the bin – my aim seems to be as off as my writing skills. I’ve promised myself that this time, no matter how long it gets, or how many mistakes I might make, this will be the final version. From the heart, like you asked for, even if it takes me the rest of the day. If nothing else it’s pretty good therapy.

This is probably not the most professional or brilliant way to make a first impression, and you’re most likely thinking about filing this under ‘N for nutter’ – or possibly ‘B for bin’. I can only apologise – my hand’s a bit cramped now and I have a blister coming up on my ring finger. I haven’t written this much since my A levels, so please forgive me if it gets a bit messy.

To be honest, everything in my life is a bit messy. It got that way just over two years ago, when my husband, David, died. He was the same age as me – I’m thirty-five now – and he was the love of my life. I can’t give you a romantic story about how we met at a wedding or got set up on a blind date by friends, or how our eyes met across a crowded nightclub – mainly because our eyes actually met across a crowded playground when we were seven years old.

He’d joined our school a few years in and appeared like a space alien at the start of term one in September. He was really good at football, was impossible to catch in a game of tag and liked drawing cartoons about his dogs, Jimbo and Jambo. We sat next to each other on the Turquoise Table in Miss Hennessey’s class, and that was that – my fate was sealed…

…

So. There we go. I think that’s everything. Probably more than everything. I’m not sure this is what you meant when you said send your heart and soul in letter form, but that serves you right for being so vague! I bet you got some really strange replies – this one being possibly the strangest of all.

I won’t hold it against you, Cherie, if I never hear from you. But if you want to talk to me, or find out anything more, then let me know. Whatever happens, good luck to you.

All the best,

Laura Walker

Want to read more? Summer at the Comfort Food Cafe by Debbie Johnson is just 99p on Amazon!

About Debbie Johnson

Debbie Johnson is a best-selling author who lives and works in Liverpool, where she divides her time between writing, caring for a small tribe of children and animals, and not doing the housework. She writes romance, fantasy and crime – which is as confusing as it sounds!

You can follow Debbie on Twitter, visit her website and find her on Facebook.

It gives me great pleasure to welcome Jo Hollywood onto Linda’s Book Bag today to explain why she is drawn to writing romance and to celebrate her debut novel An Unextraordinary Life which was published in e-book on 27th May 2016 and is available for purchase here. An Unextraordinary Life is a paranormal romance.

An Unextraordinary Life

When Tess unexpectedly bumps into Jack one cold day in March, her world is quite literally turned upside down. Can she make a new life for herself with Jack, based on how happy they were in the past? Or does she need to make a new start and find love in the arms of her new work colleague, Rob? The path of true love never does run smoothly.

Meet Tess, a woman who is still in love with her husband, who died five years ago.

Meet Jack, the ghost, who wants to make Tess happy again.

Finally there’s Rob who wants to win Tess’s heart.

Who will she choose?

Why I Am Drawn To Writing Romantic Fiction

A Guest Post by Jo Hollywood

I had never really thought that much about why I decided to start writing romantic fiction. Therefore, when I asked myself the reason why I chose this particular genre, I realised that there were many reasons behind my choice.

Firstly, I just love a happy ever after and stories of true love. I am a hopeless romantic at heart. In a way these type of stories are an antidote to all of the ills in the world, and for me they are a form of pure escapism. As a mum of two young boys, my youngest is autistic, I sometimes like to escape into another world, one that is warm and fuzzy, and this is what I like to portray with my writing.

I initially started to write romantic fiction as I used to write on the subject of autism; as a personal blog and over on the Huffington Post. However, although I still write a weekly blog for the Lancaster Guardian about my autistic son and family life, I knew deep down that I needed to take a step back and to write for myself and for my own pleasure.

When I gained my BA (Hons) in English Literature and Theatre Studies many moons ago, although I didn’t actively pursue a career in writing, I actually became a renal nurse, I always loved to write stories in my spare time. It was only really when I had to give up nursing due to the complexities of raising a child with autism, that I once again found time to write what I truly love. The obvious choice was romantic fiction, and so I set up a Wattpad account, took a deep breath and stared to write. It was the best decision I ever made in regards to my gaining confidence and advice from other wirers.

Another huge reason of why I love to write romantic fiction is that as the old saying goes, you write what you know. You write about experiences that have happened in your own life and draw inspiration from them. I suppose that it is only inevitable that elements from you own personal life are transported in some way into fiction. They sow those initial seeds into your story. I have been very fortunate in my life, as I met my now husband at the age of fifteen, we were in the same year at school, and have been together ever since. So, twenty-six years this summer. I really don’t know how he puts up with me. I suppose that subconsciously, my relationship with him has shaped my writing in some ways.

At the end of the day I simply love creating romantic fictional characters that make me smile and whom I fall in love with.  I want to be their friends and I hope that whoever reads my books feels the same way. I hate to admit it, but I am a serial eternal optimist who believes in love at first sight and that we all have our very own soul mate out there, we just need to find them. At times we live in a cruel world and I just want my readers to feel happy. We all deserve a little happiness and to escape from the world.

About Jo Hollywood

To find out all about Jo, visit her website and follow her on Twitter.

I’m pleased to be supporting Faye Rogers PR in bringing you a brand new novel by Jacqueline Ward, Random Acts of unkindness which is published today 21st June 2016. Random Acts of Unkindness is available on Amazon and you can also find out more about it on Goodreads.

Random Acts of Unkindness

How far would you go to find your child?

DS Jan Pearce has a big problem. Her fifteen year old son, Aiden, is missing. Jan draws together the threads of missing person cases spanning fifty years and finds tragic connections and unsolved questions.

Bessy Swain, an elderly woman that Jan finds dead on her search for Aiden, and whose own son, Thomas, was also missing, may have the answers.

Jan uses Bessy’s information and her own skills and instinct to track down the missing boys. But is it too late for Aiden?

Set in the North West of England, with the notorious Saddleworth Moor as a backdrop, Random Acts of Unkindness is a story about motherhood, love and loss and how families of missing people suffer the consequences of major crimes involving their loved ones.

Random Acts of Unkindness is the first in the DS Jan Pearce series of novels.

Read an extract from Random Acts of Unkindness

CHAPTER ONE

I look a little closer and instinctively back away.

Her eyes are hollow holes where the birds have pecked away at her skull and she’s covered in tiny soft feathers and greying bird shit. Fragments of silvered hair lie on her shoulders, pulled out at the roots and exposing pinprick follicles made bigger by beaks. Her mouth is set in a wry smile showing yellow teeth, as if somehow, despite the torn skin and the deeply painful twist of her body, she’s having the last laugh.

The shock is so deep that it hurts more than it should, and tears threaten as I gaze at her. A human life ending in such a terrible, lonely way. It hits me with sadness so intense that I take a moment to sit with her, to tell her broken shell of a body that someone cares. Then fear oozes through the sadness, pushing it under and reminding me of why I’m here. Where are you, Aiden? Where is my son?

I slump onto a brown box sealed with Sellotape that’s sitting next to a small blue suitcase. It looks like this old woman was going somewhere. Somewhere she never got to.

Bessy Swain, by the looks of post on the doormat. A couple of bills and some takeaway menus. A letter from social services that arrived too late to make any difference.

As well as the boxes there are piles of newspapers and scrapbooks stacked up against ancient peeling sepia wallpaper. From the state of the house this woman has been suffering for a while. Poor Bessy.

Outside, starlings perch on the windowsill, quietly watching, judging me as I put off the inevitable phone call. Through the open kitchen door I can see a couple of blackbirds standing on the shed roof, and I can hear their song of accusation. I know I need to call this in and get Bessy some dignity, but I also need to finish what I came here to do.

The day job kicks in and I pull my scarf around my nose and mouth to protect my senses from the rancid fumes I hadn’t even noticed until now. My phone starts to ring, forcing me into the here and now.

I look at Bessy’s body and then at the flashing screen. Shit. It’s Mike. My partner in crime. Crime solving, that is. Like me, he’s a Detective Sergeant  working on Special Operations.

‘Jan. Where the hell are you?’

I pause. How am I going to explain this? I take a big breath and then pull down my scarf.

‘Right, yeah. I was just . . .’

‘Looking for Aiden. Come on, you’re going to get us both sacked. You’re supposed to be in Lytham Road, attending the Operation Prophesy briefing.’

On the worn kitchen worktop that separates the lounge from the kitchen a dead starling stares at me, its dried eyes condemning me from the pits of death.

A small metal toaster holds the remains of two slices of bread, which have been pecked right down to the toaster elements. The dead bird is lying close to the toaster, its feathers puffed from electrocution.

How many birds are there in here?

In my hurry to get inside I hadn’t registered anything apart from needing to know if Aiden was here. But now, sitting here with my mobile hot against my cheek, I realise I am sitting in a house covered in bird feathers and faeces.

The back door slams shut in a gust of wind. A few stray starlings are flying about in the kitchen, but most of the birds are now outside, my entrance breaking open their jail. What I can’t understand is why the windowsills are covered in them, their wings and curled up feet scratching at the dirty glass.

Then I realise they want to get back in.

‘Jan? Jan? Are you there?’

I nod at my mobile phone.

‘Yep. Look, I’ll just finish off here. I got a tip off about there being a funny smell coming from a house and I thought . . .’

Mike sighs deeply.

‘I know exactly what you thought. But this has to stop. Or you have to do it in your own time. It’s not just your own life you’re fucking up here. I’m your partner and I’ll back you up, but there’s a line. There’s a fucking line. Where are you anyway?’

The secure safety net I have in Mike has started to fracture recently and it shatters a little more now with the pain in his voice. I desperately want to put it right, but I can’t. Not yet. I have to deal with this.

‘57 Ney Street, Ashton.’

‘Connelly’s rented houses, aren’t they? I’m telling you, you’re heading for trouble.’

I end the call there. He’s right. I’m heading for trouble. But put any parent in my position and try telling me they’d do differently. I have a good reason. Mike knows that, but he also knows that everyone else’s lives are moving on and he’s trying to drag me on with him.

I push the phone into my bag and I pull my scarf back up against the smell. It’s invaded my hair, clothes  and skin, but the action gives me a bit of comfort and control.

There’s a sudden noise from upstairs and my heart skips. The memory of Aiden calls me back and overpowers the sensible part of my brain urgently screaming that maybe poor Bessy wasn’t alone after all. Maybe someone killed her. Maybe I shouldn’t be here on my own. Maybe I shouldn’t be here at all. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

I tread the worn stair carpet and creep up, nudging open the first door on the right. It’s a boy’s bedroom, all red and white, Manchester United. So she has children. Or grandchildren? But no one is in here now.

Slowly I move on to the next door and there’s a flash of feathers. Two starlings fly past and circle the landing. Another flies at me as I step inside, hitting the side of my head. It’s a dull thud on the temple that causes a slight flash, then turns into a sickening stinging sensation. The shock bursts the tears that have been waiting to be shed since I found Bessy and not Aiden. I slump on an old double bed and touch my forehead, feeling for the dampness of blood, but luckily there is none. I shift my weight onto a pretty pink quilt and pillows for respite.

Suddenly, sitting alone in the empty house, I feel so very small and wish someone would tell me what to do next. Tell me how to find my son.

The thought that he could be captive, suffering, or dead suffocates me, and I feel my body begin to panic. Large hands squeezing my lungs. And then there’s another bird flapping, this time in a large wooden wardrobe. Sounds loosen the squeeze and I can breathe again. I need to finish this.

I open the double wardrobe door and duck out of the way this time as the bird escapes onto the landing, joining the others.

‘How did you get in there, little guy?’

They fly round and round, looking for a way out, some kind of escape, and I know how that feels. This release calms me somehow and I take an enormous breath and find raw comfort from the material of my scarf as it sucks into the crevices of my mouth.

There’s a chest lodged at the bottom of the wardrobe, like a forgotten treasure. It’s against regulations, it’s against everything I thought I stood for, but I open it anyway. I need to find out more about Bessy.

Inside, there’s another box and some papers, on top of a rolled-up baby shawl. Pink. She must have a son and a daughter.

I’m not sure what I’m searching for. A way to avoid it happening to me? What not to do. How to not die alone.

I open the inner box and there are bundles of twenty-pound notes. My fingers trace the smooth paper and lines of thick rubber bands. It isn’t often you see money like this, all rolled up and waiting for something important. My thoughts switch back to Aiden.

I remember his dark hair and angry teenage skin. I remember that I will do anything to get him home. And somehow, at this moment, the realisation of something happening to my son makes me stoop down and contemplate the unknown territory of stealing.

I’ve worked in the police force for almost two decades; I know how criminal minds work. I know that whoever has Aiden could come knocking any second, minute, hour, day now demanding money. I’m surprised they haven’t already. Time I have, but money I don’t and, as I realise the weight of a potential ransom, an intense panic prickles in my fingers. Before I can refuse this primal urge, I push the notes into my deep shoulder bag, along with the papers.

I know it’s wrong, of course; even as I’m doing it I sense my own desperation. I’m a member of the police force. I’m the most honest person I know, committed to catching the scum who do this sort of thing. Yet I can’t help myself. This is different. This is for Aiden. This could be the only way I will ever see my son again.

I’ve been involved in missing person cases before and I’ve looked at the mother, desperate and determined, and wondered how far you would go to find your child. Now I know. All the way Aiden, I’ll go all the way to find you, son.

I unravel the pink shawl, hoping I will, for a moment, lose myself inside someone else’s memories or pain instead of my own. No such luck. My hand touches fragile bone, and a tiny skeletal hand falls into mine.

I almost scream, but aren’t I Detective Sergeant Janet Pearce, Surveillance Specialist? Aren’t I hard? Tough? Impenetrable? I close the lid with shaking fingers and replace the box, hurrying now, fighting back tears. This is all wrong. It’s all too much and I rush downstairs.

My phone rings just as I’m standing in front of poor Bessy. Mike. Again.

‘Jan? Have you left there yet? You need to be here. We’re starting the briefing in half an hour and if you don’t make this one . . .’

The bag is heavy on my shoulder and pinching at the skin under my cotton T-shirt. I need to get it to my car before I ring this in, but now I have no choice. If I don’t say anything to Mike someone will suspect further down the line. I check my watch. I’ve been here ten minutes.

‘OK. I’ll be there. But I need to ring in a suspicious death.’

There’s a silence for a moment. I can hear him breathing. Mike knows what I’m going through. He gets it. He’s probably my best friend in the whole world right now. He speaks again.

‘Not . . . ?’

‘No. An old woman. Looks like natural causes, but a bit gruesome. Anyway. That’s what I found when I got here. I’ll wait until someone arrives, then I’ll be right with you.’

I sound composed, professional, but I’m still shaking. I hang up. He’ll be pleased, because I’ve got a legitimate excuse to miss the briefing. I hurry through the kitchen, out the door, and through the yard. The birds scatter then regroup on the telephone wires above.

My car’s in the back alleyway. I take the money and push it under the front seat. I push the letters into the elasticated pocket on the side of the door and pull my bag back onto my shoulder. Oh my God. What am I doing? I know this is so fucking wrong and I try to tell myself again that it’s necessary. But away from the drama of the house sense creeps in. If there was going to be a ransom from Connelly wouldn’t it have come weeks ago?

No. I can’t do it. I can’t. I pull out the money and push it back into my bag and hurry back to the house. What was I thinking? This isn’t me. The birds just sit there, their heads turning as they watch me rushing around. I try to shoo them away, because they are witnesses to my uncharacteristic misdemeanour, but they won’t go.

I move past Bessy, running now, and toward the narrow stairs, silently apologising for disturbing her secret.

But it’s too late. I see a blue flashing light against the darkness of the room and hear the back door open. Two uniformed police officers appear and someone is banging on the door.

Hugging my bag and shame to my chest, I fumble with the lock and open it. DS Jack Newsome, one of my opposite numbers in the regional police, pushes past me, followed by two uniformed officers.

‘Jesus Christ. That’s awful. How long’s it been here?’

I don’t like Jack. He hasn’t got a compassionate bone in his body. I find myself moving protectively between him and Bessy.

‘She, Jack, she. This is a person. A woman. She deserves a little respect.’

The word sticks on my tongue, heavy with mockery. Respectful, unlike me, who has just stolen her life savings. I’ve never felt guilt like this before, and I wonder how people can live with it. He smirks.

‘Right, Jan. She. How long has she been here?’

I see Bessy with fresh eyes. As Jack does, as any policeman would. Her faded dress is sagging in odd shapes against the decomposition of her body, and brown lace-up shoes sit the wrong way round, her ankles ballooning awkwardly in the crossed position they must have rested in as she died.

‘I don’t know, Jack. But I arrived fifteen minutes ago. Had a tip off about a bad smell and was just passing.’

He’s nodding and grinning. Yet underneath I can see his annoyance as he sighs and wipes his hand through his dark hair, then wipes tiny beads of perspiration away from his forehead. And, of course, the giveaway twitch at the corner of his eye that always tells me when Jack thinks he’s onto something.

‘Just passing, were you? A little bit out of town, isn’t it? Away from your usual place of work? So who was the tip off from?’

I smile now and wonder if it covers up my devastation.

‘Member of the public. In a public place. Just on my way to Ashton Market buying some bacon for the weekend when I heard two women talking about this property and the smell. Simple as that.’

He’s shaking his head.

‘OK, Jan, if that’s how you want it. I suppose all’s well that ends well.’

We look at Bessy. She’s someone’s mother. Like me.

‘Not for her, though. Which is why we’re here, not to find out the ins and outs of my shopping habits. No?’

Jack turns away now. He’s looking toward the kitchen. As he approaches the door, I hear a flutter of wings and beaks tapping on glass.

‘What the bloody hell? Get those birds out of here. And search the house. Get forensics down here, and we need a coroner’s wagon for the old bird here. Cover her up, John. She’s giving me the creeps.’

So the police machine swings into action. I stand there for a moment, wondering if there is a way for me to put the money back, but the two uniformed officers are upstairs now, battling with angry starlings.

I don’t mention that they will need two coroner’s vehicles, one for poor Bessy and one for the tiny baby. God only knows why she’s got a dead baby in her wardrobe. That poor woman must have had a terrible life if the state of this place is anything to go by. Without a word I leave by the front door and walk around to the back alley.

The houses are well maintained and I feel a little easier now the neighbours are out and I have a reason for being here. I get in my car and, with the bag still over my shoulder, drive off. In my rearview mirror the birds still watch, their heads cocking.

Two streets away, I pull up outside an old peoples’ home. I know this is a safe spot away from CCTV. My phone hasn’t even got a signal here. I’m a surveillance expert, latterly of the Communications Department, more lately promoted to DS in Special Operations. It’s my job to know these things.

Even so, guilt overwhelms me, and I remember when I first became a police detective; so full of goodwill and always on the side of the person who had been harmed. I spent hours poring over mind maps and evidence boards, midnight sessions in the operation room and endless visits to witnesses.

Sometimes when I lie awake at night thinking about Aiden, I wonder if I would have shuffled events in a different way this wouldn’t have happened. That always leads to me swearing that from now on I’ll do the right thing, be good, anything, as long as I get him back. Holding myself bolt upright, smiling, being polite, saying thank you; are they all little combinations to finding out what has happened?

In the clarity of daylight it all seems different. No hippy thinking will get me through the day. Action is needed. And, after all, in this game it’s almost impossible to be good all the time. The deeper you get into something, the more complex the relationships, the situations. Everyone’s got something on someone, and they’re going to use it at some point. Until now I’d kept my fingers out of the till, been good as gold. But this is different. This is personal.

I count the money. There’s forty-four thousand pounds. Jesus. I automatically scan the horizon for the signs I know are there, at the root of my suspicions of where my son is. Connelly. I see the scarves and shoes hanging from the telephone wires, silent messages in an unspoken world and my heart turns back to stone.

I push the money under the seat, still distraught that I took it, more distraught that I couldn’t put it back, and seeing no way to return it now. I decide that, in return for it, I’ll do what I can to see Bessy Swain’s case resolved. I’ll do what I can to find out why she had to hide a baby. Someone owes her that, at least.

About Jacqueline Ward

Jacqueline Ward writes short stories, novels and screenplays. She has been writing seriously since 2007 and has had short stories published in anthologies and magazines. Jacqueline won Kindle Scout in 2016 and her crime novel, Random Acts of Unkindness, will be published by Amazon Publishing imprint Kindle Press. Her novel SmartYellowTM was published by Elsewhen Press in 2015 and was nominated for the Arthur C Clarke Award in 2016. Jacqueline is a Chartered psychologist who specializes in narrative psychology, gaining a PhD in narrative and storytelling in 2007. She lives in Oldham, near Manchester, with her partner and their dog.

You can find out more about Jacqueline on her website and follow her on Twitter. You’ll also find her on Facebook and Goodreads.

I’m spotlighting Midsummer at Eyre Hall by Luccia Gray because I have so enjoyed the first two books in the series. Midsummer at Eyre Hall is published today, 21st June 2016, and available in e-book here.

The author, Luccia Grey, has no idea that I’m doing this, but I know just how hard she has worked and how dedicated she has been to creating this series that I wanted to surprise her.

Luccia has her own blog Rereading Jane Eyre where there is so much detail about the series and the writing process. You can find that blog here.

You can read my review of the first in the trilogy All Hallows at Eyre Hall here and my review of the second book, Twelfth Night at Eyre Hall, here (the competition associated with that blog post is now closed).

I’m really looking forward to reading the concluding part.

Midsummer at Eyre Hall

Midsummer at Eyre Hall is the third and final volume of The Eyre Hall Trilogy, which chronicles the lives of the residents of Eyre Hall from the beginning to the height of the Victorian era.

Following the death of her second husband, Richard Mason, Jane is finally engaged to the man she loves. However, her oldest son, John Rochester, will do everything in his power to stop the wedding and take over Eyre Hall and the Rochester Estate, with devastating consequences for Jane.

Romance, mystery and excitement will unfold, based on the lives of the original characters, and bringing to life new and intriguing ones, spinning a unique and absorbing narrative, which will move the action from the Yorkshire countryside to Victorian London, and magical Cornwall.

About Luccia Gray

Luccia Gray was born in London and now lives in the south of Spain with her husband. She has three children and three grandchildren. When she’s not reading or writing, she teaches English at an Adult Education Centre and at the Spanish National University.

You can find out more about Luccia Gray and the Eyre Hall Trilogy on the web site and you can follow the author on Twitter. You’ll also find her on Facebook.

All three books in the Eyre Hall Trilogy are available here.

I’m an enormous fan of the publisher Bookouture and so it gives me enormous pleasure to be helping celebrate one of their latest releases, Lovers and Liars by Nigel May. Lovers and Liars was published in paperback on 16th June 2016 and is available for purchase here. It is also available as an e-book.

Nigel has kindly agreed to be interviewed for Linda’s Book Bag and you can read that interview below.

Lovers and Liars

Welcome to the Velvet Hotel Barbados where money and sex go hand in hand with murder ….

When Millionaire playboy Sheridan Rivers is found dead at his luxurious hotel on the paradise island of Barbados, there are several suspects in the frame…

Sutton: Sheridan’s long-suffering wife was permanently pushed aside for his younger lovers. Was it time for her to make a stand?

Kassidy: Sheridan’s assistant longs to be wealthy in her own right. Employed for her sexual and organisational skills, could she have had her eyes on a bigger prize?

Nikki: Sheridan’s oldest daughter has done something really bad that her dad has discovered. What price will she pay to keep his silence?

Heather: The apple of her father, Sheridan’s eye. But she’s recently been widowed due to a terrible accident Sheridan was responsible for. Is the time ripe for revenge?

Four women, each with a cross to bear – all waiting for the perfect moment to exact their revenge …

This summer, pour yourself a glass of bubbly and escape with the elite to the golden beaches of Barbados for a sexy, scandalous romp that you won’t be able to put down.

An Interview with Nigel May

Hi Nigel. Thank you so much for agreeing to answer some questions on my blog about your writing and your latest book Lovers and Liars. 

You are very welcome – it’s great to be here. Thank you for having me.

Firstly, please could you tell me a little about yourself? 

I’m name is Nigel Peter May, I’m 47 years of age and I write spicy crime books full of intrigue, drama, beauty, glamour, celebrity, travel, murder and revenge. With a lovely dose of naughtiness thrown in for good thrilling measure. I’m Scorpio and proud of it so I like things with added spice and intrigue.

You’ve been described as the UK’s male Jackie Collins. What’s your reaction to that title?

A total honour as Jackie Collins is my favourite authoress of all time. I have read her books ever since I was a teenager. She always had such a magical way of creating page-turning novels with thrills and spills on every page, and that’s what I try to do with mine. I met her shortly before her sad death and she asked for copies of my books which was just incredible. Nobody writes a Jackie Collins novel like Jackie as they were unique in my opinion but if people want to compare me to her then there is no greater accolade as far as I am concerned.

(That must have been an amazing meeting and so thrilling to have her ask for your work.)

When did you first realise you were going to be a writer? 

I was a showbiz journalist for many years working for magazines and newspapers and adored interviewing stars about their lives and immersing myself in their glamorous worlds. I worked in London for nearly two decades interviewing all sorts of fabulous people. Then I made the move into TV hosting (which is my other job) and I kind of stopped writing for a while. I reached the stage where I was really missing it so I decided to start writing my first book, Trinity, on my days off from the TV. I count myself very lucky that here I am now with my fifth book Lovers And Liars. It’s been an amazing journey.

What drew you to writing the sexy fiction you write? 

Because I believe people love to escape the normalities of life and dive into a world of incredible riches and decadence, yet meet characters who are as flawed as the rest of us, riddled with their insecurities and vulnerabilities. I have always been fascinated with stories from authors like Jackie Collins, Jacqueline Susann and Shirley Conran so for me, when I started writing, it seemed natural that I write in that genre. It’s what I love. And it gives me, and hopefully every reader of my novels, a chance to unwind and delve into places, parties and positions that we would never normally find ourselves in. Who doesn’t love a riotous, diamond-dipped drama?

(Good question – diamonds are my Aries birthstone!)

Which aspects of your writing do you find easiest and most difficult? 

Starting a book is always hard as the opening chapter is so essential. It needs to grab everyone into the story and make people think that they really want to keep turning every page to see what happens next. I always try to create characters that people love, or love to hate, and I think finding that fine line between a character being a lovable rogue and somebody that readers are indifferent about can be tricky. I hope that everyone believes in the characters that I write, especially the lovers and the liars, the divas and the devils in my latest novel.

What are your writing routines and where do you do most of your writing? 

I arise early and try to be at my computer at ridiculous o’clock in the morning. It’s the time when I feel that most of my ideas are flowing. I’m a scribbler so all of my storylines and ideas and plotlines will be written longhand into a pad before I even start on the computer. Then I refer to them as I start writing. Things change as I go along and I never plot anything out completely as I love to be open to change. I have altered murderers and victims and lovers before as a result of a new plot twist springing into my head. I think it’s so important to not become too bogged down with thinking that a story has to be a certain way. I want my stories to be enjoyable, dramatic and believable and sometimes that means straying from the original path that I was following.

When you’re not writing, what do you like to read? 

I read every day, normally when I’m climbing into bed at night. I think I am like many bloggers out there and have a pile of books to be read always waiting to go. I read both from my Kindle and with paperbacks so I have a huge back catalogue to plough through. I love a good mystery and adore a whodunit. I do love glamour as well though and anything obsessed with celebrities and scandal.

(I know exactly what you mean about that huge pile of books waiting to be read!)

What is it like being a Bookouture author? 

In a word, fabulous. They have managed to give my books a wonderful boost that maybe I would never have had if I had carried on self-publishing. They have given my novels a glossy look with covers that always fit the story within perfectly. Plus they have shared their guidance and expertise with me all the way along. Being a writer can be a lonely and incredibly difficult thing at times (although I wouldn’t change it for the world) and to have somebody at the end of the phone or via Skype that can pick you up and keep your mojo flowing because they believe in you is a wonderful thing.

How do you research the exotic locations for your books? 

I try to visit as many places as I can so that I can write with authenticity about them. It’s hard to visit everywhere as obviously my novels clock up a lot of air miles and take the reader around the world. But I will always try to make it there. In Lovers And Liars a lot of the action takes place in Barbados which is a place that I visited with friends for the first time in 2015. As soon as I went there I knew I had to set a novel in paradise and I soaked up as much of the atmosphere as I could to give the novel a truly tropical feel. Toronto and Crete are both featured heavily in Lovers And Liars too and I made sure that I visited them both so that I could really gain a feel for what is what was like there. When I start plotting novels I quite often think ‘ooh where would I like to visit’ and then decide to set some of the novel there accordingly. My passport is constantly on the go!

Your books always have very glamorous covers. Was that a deliberate choice from the very beginning or did they evolve naturally? 

My first two covers, when I self-published Trinity and Addicted, were designed by a great friend of mine and I loved them, but when Bookouture took me on they wanted to rebrand the books with new covers and I have to say, they have done an incredible job. The covers are sexy and glamorous and intriguing and immediately give the reader the feel that something luxurious and fabulous will be happening from cover to cover. I love the pink on the new book, it’s a quite a departure from my traditional blue and I think gives the book a really exotic and fresh feel.

If you could choose to be a character from Lovers and Liars, who would you be and why? 

I adore Blair Lonergan, the DJ. He first popped up in Deadly Obsession in a minor role but in Lovers And Liars he’s definitely one of my main men. He’s young, fit, a huge hit in the bedroom department and also has a kind and loving heart which we really get to see in the latest book. Naturally I am nothing like him (apart from the heart!), but I do love him as a character. I adore Sutton as well as she is such a strong-minded family woman, who puts her brood before anything, yet she still doubts herself. As I am sure everybody does.

If  Lovers and Liars became a film, who would you like to play Sutton, Heather, Nikki and Kassidy?  

Great question. I think Sutton should be played by Taraji P Henson who plays Cookie in Empire. A really wonderful actress who shows both weakness and strength in all that she does. Or perhaps Angela Bassett as she is amazing too. Heather and Nikki could be played by Jennifer Hudson and Beyoncé. And Kassidy would be somebody like Emilie De Ravin who is an incredible actress.

Nigel, thanks so much for answering all my questions so fully. I really enjoyed having you on Linda’s Book Bag.

About Nigel May

Nigel’s books have been Amazon best sellers, read by celebrities and fellow authors alike, and have proved that a man can successfully write in a ‘glam fiction bonkbuster world’ that has always been a strongly female domain.

Nigel was also the only male writer amongst 44 authors featured in the chart-topping, beach-read anthology of short-stories SUNLOUNGER. He also contributed a short story to SUNLOUNGER 2.

He regularly presents on UK television where he has built up a substantial following. He has also featured on Channel 4, C5, ITV and broadcast live from America. He is also one of the UK’s most popular craft personalities, having launched his own successful range, A-May-Zing.

As a writer he has written for many of the UK’s most successful magazines and newspapers, specialising in showbiz and celebrity, as well as writing on subjects ranging from relationships through to exotic travel.

You can find out more about Nigel and his books on his website and follow him on Twitter.

There’s more from Nigel with these other bloggers too:

I’m always happy to support authors on Linda’s Book Bag and when I heard that Colette Kebell was about to celebrate the first anniversary of publishing The Retail Therapist I thought I’d ask her onto the blog to tell us more about that last year. The Retail Therapist is available for purchase on Amazon UK and Amazon IT,from Waterstones and all good bookshops.

The Retail Therapist

Window shopping! Don’t you just hate the term?

It is like going into a sweet shop and not being able to buy anything, or not knowing what to buy first. That is exactly my line of business, helping people make the right choice.
I’m one of those fashion consultants that are so popular nowadays amongst the upper crust, although I started ages ago. Choosing the right clothes for the right occasion is not an easy task: the dress has to match your personality and, if it can, enhance it.

This story is about how I abandoned the rat race, spending days in a legal office, and followed my dream of becoming a fashion consultant. I believe I’m something more though, I’m a Retail Therapist and I’m sure you are itching to know the story about how I started and how I helped my clients look fabulous! So, what are you waiting for? Hurry up, click that “buy” button up there and be prepared to enter the mysterious world of a Berkshire Retail Therapist girl.

Learning Lessons

A Guest Post by Colette Kebell

Hello Linda and thank you so much for the opportunity of doing a guest post to celebrate the one year anniversary of the launch of “The Retail Therapist”.  I have to say, it took a little time mulling over what to write as I don’t often think about where I am today compared to a year ago…between one thing and another life has been a bit hectic since then.

Turning to your suggested questions, first and foremost the biggest “high” is when you have your book returned by the copy editor, you’ve read it through just to ensure they’ve not changed anything too drastic and then hit that upload button to make it “live” on Amazon!  There is such a sense of achievement when you see your work there available to buy for the first time.  There are many other highs prior to this, from first deciding to write, actually reading what you’ve started and enjoying it, the input from, in my case, my husband, who read and commented on it throughout the writing process. There was so much laughter in our household during that time, in respect of both my books, and I think that comes across in my story telling.  Then, of course, there is the moment when you first clap eyes on the cover. After what in my case was quite a small brief, my cover designer just got me from the outset.

There are lows of course, tense moments when you wonder whether you have done the right thing in becoming a writer, whether anyone will want to buy and more importantly enjoy your work, will anyone then want to write reviews, how to deal with the marketing side of things (not my strong point as I’m not a sales person). The learning curve is an immense one and one that brings tears at times, not least when I discover I have a new review, as so far they’ve been such lovely ones they made my heart soar.

In hindsight, I would have probably built up my media presence sooner than I indeed did.  I only started to build my website once the book was about half done; same with twitter and Facebook.  These are important tools to a self-published author and so if I had done more research in the first instance, I would probably have dealt with those a lot sooner.  The other thing I would do differently in future is organise a Book Launch Blog Tour.  I had already decided that I would, especially as they feature in Blue and Green Should Never Be Seen! (Or so Mother Says), enlist the help of some bloggers to write three reviews of each book, excerpts of which now appear on the back covers of my paperbacks.  Having said that, being a complete novice to the world of writing, I knew little or nothing about how important bloggers indeed are to authors.  I have since learned my lesson though and appreciate every opportunity that bloggers give me in respect of my books, whether it be a guest post such as this one, or indeed an interview or review.

Currently I have three “works in progress” one of which is the sequel to my first two, another of the same genre, but this time set in New York and the third is one that a friend of mine inspired me to start writing by inadvertently giving me the title in conversation (and she will be told and thanked once that is ready to be uploaded).  I have had a bit of a struggle this past year or so though, hence having 3 WIPs, due to our house sale/purchase.  I’m currently sitting at the kitchen table in our property in France, with my two dogs but separated from hubby, due to our purchase not having gone through yet.  I may even be here for another couple of months so, though it is peaceful and I have my dogs for company, I cannot participate in any author/blogger events that are coming up currently, nor do I have my ever supportive husband by my side.  We had to take the decision to separate due to being unable to find a rental property in the UK that would allow us to keep our dogs with us and therefore, had no other option than the one we took.

After writing Blue and Green I felt that I had a lot more to say about GiGi and how she reached the point she had and so, following reading a number of articles focusing on authors deciding to do prequels, I felt it would be a good thing to do.  The story was just itching to be told and so I wrote The Retail Therapist.  I think, if I had thought about it a little more, I could have turned that into a full size novel and if I had known what the RNA criteria was going to be in respect of self-published author membership (or even about their new author membership) I would have probably made it at least a little longer so as to fall within their criteria.  Hindsight is a good thing, but there is little point in dwelling on things that you discover too late to change.

In summary, I love writing and have a lot of fun when I do so and hopefully that comes across on the pages that people read.  I’m quite shy by nature though talking about my books makes me a far more passionate and animated person, though I occasionally have to stop myself from going OTT on that subject.  Little point in boring people when there are so many other subjects that can be discussed and you never know, as was the case with one of current WIPs, there may be a story that just jumps out at you, even during everyday conversations.

Colette’s Blue and Green Should Never Be Seen! (Or so Mother Says) is available here  in the UK and translated into Italian here.

About Colette Kebell

Colette has given a talk at Folkestone Festival about her self-publishing that you can see here.

You can follow Colette on Twitter, find more about her on her web site and find her on Facebook.

Having recently read and thoroughly enjoyed Catherine Ferguson’s Four Weddings and a Fiasco, I’m delighted to be part of the launch celebrations for this lovely book.

Four Weddings and a Fiasco was published by Avon Books in e-book and paperback on 16th June 2016 and you can purchase Four Weddings and a Fiasco from all good bookshops, on Amazon, or directly from Harper Collins.

You can read my review of Four Weddings and a Fiasco here, but today I have the fifth episode in an exclusive short story written by Catherine. It tells more about Katy Peacock before Four Weddings and a Fiasco begins. At the bottom of this blog post you’ll find the other bloggers where you can catch up with the whole story.

Four Weddings and a Fiasco

Katy Peacock lives a life as colourful as her name.

As a wedding photographer, she spends her days making other people smile as she captures all sorts of fun and capers at celebrations that range from the wacky to the wild.

But her own life isn’t looking quite so rosy. Her mum is acting out of character, her menacing ex is back on the scene, and she is torn between two gorgeous men. And that’s before we even get started on the trouble her sister is causing . . .

As Katy weathers the ups and downs of the season, she revisits problems from the past, discovers new friendships and finds that four weddings and a fiasco have the power to change her world beyond measure.

A funny, feel-good read, perfect for fans of Lucy Diamond and Jenny Colgan.

Read Extract Five of an exclusive Catherine Ferguson Short Story

ONE BRIDE AND A BOMBSHELL

5

It was my sister’s birthday that day and she’d organised a night out with the girls. And she was determined I should be there.

She began pleading the instant I walked through the door with my weekend bag.

‘Oh, Katy, you have to come. You always do.’ She pressed her hands together. ‘Please?’

With her luminous grey eyes and pushed-out lower lip, she was the image of the oh-so-cute four-year-old who used to drive me nutty getting her own way with Mum all the time – an unpardonable sin when you’re a narky thirteen-year-old, like I was at the time.

I laughed. ‘Oh, go on, then. I’ll join you for one or two drinks.’

‘Fantastic.’ She gave her hands a little clap.

‘But I’ve got to be home by nine,’ I warned.

Her look turned serious. ‘You have my word, Cinderella. I totally understand. You need your trial to go well tomorrow. Otherwise Crabby Camilla won’t hire you.’

I smiled. ‘Correct.’

It was going to be a watershed day in my life.

I was determined nothing was going to spoil it.

When I joined the girls in the pub later, around seven, they’d been out for pizza and were in fine form, drinking prosecco like it was lemonade.

I knew and liked them all, and after cheering my arrival, which made the entire pub turn curiously in our direction, they continued their animated chat on the eternal subject of men.

Sienna said I had to talk some grown-up sense into her friend, Carrie.

Apparently Carrie fancied a guy standing at the bar but was point blank refusing to go up and speak to him.

Personally, I thought it was up to Carrie whether or not she was prepared to make such a brave move and risk being rejected. Far better, I said, to make a little bit of eye contact with him and see what happened.

They all nodded in agreement, and I realised they were simply taking wise advice from the ‘old person’ at the table, which was quite a sobering thought. At twenty-eight, I wasn’t exactly decrepit, but practically everyone else at the table could qualify for a teen bus pass.

‘It’s all so complicated, this love business,’ complained Amy. She heaved a giant sigh. ‘Katy, please tell us that by the time you’re approaching your thirties, it all starts to make complete sense.’

You can find all Catherine’s books here and follow her on Twitter. To read the full story from Catherine, please see these other bloggers: