Have you ever visited a place and wished you had a time machine so you could see how it looked in earlier centuries? Now I’m back from my holiday on Orkney, I’ve got loads more entries on my ‘places to go back to when I have a time machine’ list.

Right near the top of the list is the Standing Stones of Stenness. Sadly there are only four stones left, most of the others having been dynamited by a tenant farmer in the nineteenth century. You can still see the holes drilled in the stone intended to be his next victim, but the locals stopped him and saw him off the island. I would love to go back to a time before the stones were destroyed and see the full circle. The survivors are breath-taking, so the complete circle must have been an awesome sight.

Another standing stone the farmer dynamited was a nearby stone called the Thor Stone. This had a hole near the base and was hugely important to the islanders. Couples who wished to marry would stand on either side of the stone, clasp hands through the hole and make their vows. These vows were so powerful that many couples didn’t bother going to church for a legal wedding. Vows taken at the Thor Stone held even after the death of one of the couple, so if a man was going off to sea the couple would return to the stone to undo their vows, thus freeing the woman to marry again should the husband be lost at sea. If he returned, they would go back to the Thor Stone to retake their vows. With the Thor Stone having such a powerful role in local ritual, I can only imagine how devastated the Orcadians must have been to lose it. I would love to use my time machine to witness one of the marriages solemnised there.

Where would you go if you had a time machine?

Picture the scene: a young woman’s parents inform her they’ve arranged a marriage for her - an alliance with a powerful man.

‘I can’t marry him,’ she tells them. ‘I’m already married to another.’

With all the legalities a couple have to go through before they can marry, such a situation seems incredible. But in the Middle Ages, it could and did happen. There were no marriage licences; you didn’t have to marry in a church or other licensed premises; you didn’t even need witnesses. It was simply necessary for each partner to verbally consent to be the other’s husband/wife and the deed was done.

Of course, if the couple couldn’t produce witnesses to their marriage, it was possible for determined parents to separate them. You can imagine the lengths parents might go to to persuade their child to pretend the marriage hadn’t happened if the marriage they’d originally planned was important to them.

That’s what happened to Isobel and Edmund, the hero and heroine of my latest book, although I’m not going to give away who caved, and how they were persuaded. But imagine how they would feel if, after a five-year separation, they found themselves snowed in together in the same castle. That’s the premise that came to me when I started thinking about Isobel and Edmund’s characters and what their separation would do to them. I realised it would take a major intervention to get them talking again, hence the blizzard. Even so, it’s going to take more than a few words to overcome their anger and bitterness, and Isobel is terrified Edmund will discover the secret she’s hidden from him.

Intrigued? If you want to know what happens next, you’ll have to buy the book!

Blurb:
Snowed in with the man who abandoned her five years earlier, Norman widow Isobel de Brockton is terrified he will discover her secret. If Edmund Granville finds out, she risks losing all she holds dear.

Edmund is determined to earn the king's favor by catching a fugitive. The last thing he needs is to be stuck in a castle with the woman who cruelly cast him off. But after Isobel’s young son is lost in a blizzard, Edmund learns the truth behind their separation.

Now he resolves to reclaim his bride, but the deep wounds of their past haven't mended. Can they finally heal their damaged hearts and seize their second chance at love?

Follow the links to buy the book on:
Amazon
iTunes
Barnes and Noble

I'm delighted to welcome Morton Gray back to my blog. Apart from us both having books published last week, I've discovered we have another thing in common - a love of castles. Over to you, Morton!

Thank you for having me over on your blog, Tora. I was trying to think of a link between us and decided that it might be appropriate to talk about my love of castles. Why? Well you write wonderful historical novels with castles in them and the hero of my contemporary romantic suspense novel The Truth Lies Buried lives in a wooden castle which he built himself.

I developed a love of castles at a very early age. Captivated by the tales of King Arthur and the knights of the round table, I wandered around Tintagel Castle on holiday, convinced that I would be the one to find the lost sword Excalibur! I always wanted one of those tall veiled hats – a hennin – that medieval women wore and, of course, I have always fantasied about being rescued by a knight in shining armour.
 
When my eldest son was small, we used to attend battle re-enactments, many held in the grounds of castles. We went to a re-enactment of the battle of Hastings, other Saxon and Norman skirmishes and English Civil war battles too.

I’m not sure I could give you a definitive list of all of the castles I’ve visited, but these include: Powis, Dudley, Bridgnorth, Harlech, Croft, Conwy, Lindisfarne, Hastings, Bamburgh, Warkworth, Ludlow, Caernarfon, Criccieth, Ashby de la Zouch, Kenilworth, Barnard, Beaumaris, Berry Pomeroy, Berwick, Bowes, Dartmouth, Doon, Goodrich, Helmsley, Hartlebury, Harvington, Middleham, Nottingham, Plymouth, Richmond, Stokesay, Tintagel, Warwick, Windsor and that’s just off the top of my head.

Castle structures have always held a fascination for me. I love the turrets, the winding staircases and the enclosed walled living spaces. So when, at a descriptive writing workshop, I was asked to write about an advertising postcard for wooden garden buildings depicting a wooden castle in amongst trees, Tree Tops, the home of my hero Carver Rodgers in The Truth Lies Buried was born.
 
Here’s a short extract from the novel when my heroine, Jenny, comes across the castle:-

“At last, she spotted a building. She began to make her way towards it, squealing as an icy drop of water dripped from a branch down the back of her neck.

She stopped dead.

My goodness. Am I in a dream?

Jenny stood still, shocked at the wonder of the structure in front of her.

The building was a fairy-tale castle, made of wood, not stone. Nestled against two huge trees, it blended into its surroundings. There was a small clearing in front of the house, but the trees grew close around the other three sides. The bronze carpet of autumn leaves echoed the browns of the wood. She admired the symmetry of two turrets and two balconies. Glass in the upper arched windows sparkled in the bright sunlight that had appeared after the earlier rainstorm. Once again, she had the feeling of having stepped into an alternate reality.

Who lived in a house like this?

Walking up the wide staircase towards the front door, Jenny’s hand lingered on the silky-smooth banister. The smell of woodsmoke began to fill the air, drifting from further away into the trees. She admired an ornate heart, looking almost like lace rather than woodcarving and linking capital letters ‘C’ and ‘B’ above the doorway.

There was no response to her knock, but as the chainsaw had started up again and dominated the airwaves, she might have missed a shout from within. Her confidence began to wither away. She contemplated returning to her car and forgetting her new business venture altogether.

As the thought of running away surfaced, the memory of the anguish of the past few months hit her full force and she knew she couldn’t give in now, not when she was at last making progress. She had to move on from her mother’s death and make a new life for herself.

Back straight, head high, get on with it. The words, and the voice that echoed them in her head, were again her mother’s. It was one of her mum’s often used phrases. Her mother may physically be gone, but she lived on in Jenny’s head and Jenny supposed she always would.

With renewed determination, she went back down the steps and across the clearing, weaving through the trees in the direction of the overwhelming sound of the saw.

Another clearing lay ahead and she noticed a man moving. As she got closer, she could see he wore faded blue overalls, huge ear defenders and goggles. With movements reminiscent of a boxer trying to decide when to strike, he appeared to be sizing up a tree trunk propped up on the ground. The chainsaw purred in his hands and his body braced as he moved in and connected with the wood. Shavings rained through the air.

The howl of the saw began to make her head thud and her pulse race. Watching the man carving was like observing an intimate scene between lovers, as he shaped the log. There was something fascinating about the undulations of his back and his deliberate movements, as his strong arms handled the heavy saw like a paintbrush. She watched mesmerised as the shape of a bird began to emerge from the wooden block. The man ducked and dived, wielding the saw with obvious skill. Jenny’s best pair of smart shoes sank deeper into the muddy leaf mould as she waited patiently for him to notice her.

Suddenly, a huge grey dog leapt out of the undergrowth. The animal was as tall as Jenny when it jumped up, close enough for her to see flashes in his eyes. She backed against a tree, her heart in her mouth, stifling a scream. The dog circled around her, barking and snarling. Climbing out of harm’s way was impossible in her tight skirt, even if she could climb a tree. Enormous teeth came close to her face and saliva dripped from the animal’s jaws. Jenny clutched her handbag in front of her and stood as still as she could, given that she was shaking so violently. Scared of passing out, she closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle.

After what seemed a lifetime, during which she’d had plenty of time to imagine being eaten by the baying dog, the chainsaw silenced.

‘Wilf, away. Come here, you mangy beast.’

Jenny chanced opening her eyes. The dog retreated instantly in response to the man’s words. She sank down to the ground, her terror taking away all care for her suit.

The chainsaw man came towards her, removing his ear defenders as he walked. He took off his goggles, revealing slate grey eyes that showed concern, but maybe a hint of amusement too. Wood shavings coated his long curly hair.

 ‘Are you all right? I wasn’t expecting visitors.’

Jenny stuttered when she finally found her voice. ‘You w-weren’t ex-expecting me?’

‘No.’

‘But you rang me? Unless I have totally the wrong place.’ Her voice sounded much higher in pitch than normal.

A look of puzzlement passed across his features and then his whole body tensed.

‘You’re the cleaning lady. My brother-in-law, Kieron, said he’d rung you. I’d completely forgotten.’

Jenny attempted a smile, while she contemplated how she felt about being called a cleaning lady.

He took off a thick glove and extended his hand”

About The Truth Lies Buried
 
Two children in a police waiting room, two distressed mothers, a memory only half remembered …
 
When Jenny Simpson returns to the seaside town of Borteen, her childhood home, it’s for a less than happy reason. But it’s also a chance for her to start again.
 
A new job leads to her working for Carver Rodgers, a man who lives alone in a house that looks like it comes from the pages of a fairy tale – until you see the disaster zone inside …
 
As Jenny gets to know Carver she begins to unravel the sadness that has led to his chaotic existence. Gradually they realise they have something in common that is impossible to ignore – and it all links back to a meeting at a police station many years before.
 
Could the truth lie just beneath their feet?
 
 
Biography for Morton S. Gray
 
Morton lives with her husband, two sons and Lily, the tiny white dog, in Worcestershire, U.K. She has been reading and writing fiction for as long as she can remember, penning her first attempt at a novel aged fourteen. She is a member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association and The Society of Authors.
 
Her debut novel The Girl on the Beach was published after she won Choc Lit Publishing Search for a Star competition. The story follows a woman with a troubled past as she tries to unravel the mystery surrounding her son’s headteacher, Harry Dixon. This book is available as a paperback and e-book.
 
Morton’s second book for Choc Lit The Truth Lies Buried is another romantic suspense novel, the book tells the story of Jenny Simpson and Carver Rodgers as they uncover secrets from their past. This book is available as an e-book, paperback and audiobook from 12 March 2019.
 
Christmas at Borteen Bay was published in November 2018 and is Morton’s first Christmas novella. It is set in her fictional seaside town of Borteen and follows the story of Pippa Freeman who runs the Rose Court Guesthouse with her mother and local policeman Ethan Gibson as they unravel a family secret as Christmas approaches.
 
Morton previously worked in the electricity industry in committee services, staff development and training. She has a Business Studies degree and is a fully qualified Clinical Hypnotherapist and Reiki Master. She also has diplomas in Tuina acupressure massage and energy field therapy. She enjoys crafts, history and loves tracing family trees. Having a hunger for learning new things is a bonus for the research behind her books.
 
You can catch up with Morton on her website www.mortonsgray.com, on
Twitter - @MortonSGray, her Facebook page – Morton S. Gray Author - https://www.facebook.com/mortonsgray/ and
Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/morton_s_gray/
 
Purchasing links for The Truth Lies Buried at http://www.choc-lit.com/dd-product/the-truth-lies-buried/

I have news! My next book, His Clandestine Bride, will be released on 11th March and it’s now available to pre-order. I’m very excited to share my tortured hero, Edmund Granville, with the world.

The first spark of an idea for Edmund’s character came when I was reading about William Marshal, 1st Earl of Pembroke. In 1152, when William was only five or six years old, King Stephen used him as a hostage to persuade his father, John Marshal, to surrender Newbury Castle. Stephen told John he would hang William if John refused. John’s reply? “I still have the hammer and the anvil with which to forge still more and better sons.”
Even though it happened centuries ago, I was horrified by John’s callousness towards his son. Hostage taking was a common practice in the Middle Ages, so I started to wonder how my hero might behave in later life if he’d had a similar experience. And from that initial spark, Edmund was born. Obviously, if you want to know how life turned out for Edmund, you’ll have to read the book!

Blurb:

Snowed in with the man who abandoned her five years earlier, Norman widow Isobel de Brockton is terrified he will discover her secret. If Edmund Granville finds out, she risks losing all she holds dear.
 
Edmund is determined to earn the king's favor by catching a fugitive. The last thing he needs is to be stuck in a castle with the woman who cruelly cast him off. But after Isobel’s young son is lost in a blizzard, Edmund learns the truth behind their separation.
 
Now he resolves to reclaim his bride, but the deep wounds of their past haven't mended. Can they finally heal their damaged hearts and seize their second chance at love?

Pre-order links:

Amazon: mybook.to/ClandestineBride
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/his-clandestine-bride/id1450583175
Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1130573669

It’s November 1st, which means there are only 25 days until the release of my Christmas time-travel novella The Gift of Time. I had so much fun writing the story of a modern-day heroine learning to cope with life in a medieval castle.

When I started writing the story, I tried putting myself in my heroine’s place to work out what she would find difficult about castle life. The lack of running water and sewage treatment is an obvious issue, but the more I thought about it, the more I realised my heroine, who has a fear of heights, would have a major problem: stairs. I know what I’m taking about - I suffer from acrophobia myself, and as much as I love visiting castles, going up and down spiral staircases turns me into a trembling wreck.

As soon as I knew Kat, my heroine, would have trouble with stairs, I wrote this scene:

He was halfway up the donjon staircase when he heard the rustle of clothing above him. Then the same sharp-sweet scent he’d smelled on Katherine teased his nostrils. Gritting his teeth, he sprang up the steps until he rounded the curve and saw her feet level with his eyes. Bare feet. Delicate bare feet with shapely toes and a high arch. He lifted his gaze, skimming a leaf-green gown, up past the flare of her hips. Her gown was ruckled awkwardly around her waist, and the girdle that should have sat low on her hips was knotted about her waist, bunching the cloth above it. The lacing down her side sagged instead of pulling the bodice tightly to her body. She looked like a child who’d dressed in her mother’s clothes.

It was impossible to remain angry when faced with such a sight. “In a hurry?” Then he looked at her face, and his breath caught in his throat. “God’s blood, woman, cover your head.” Did she have no shame? Her glossy hair fell in waves to the middle of her back, giving her the look of a woman who had just risen from a lover’s bed. His mouth went dry as images of her sprawled upon his bed seared his mind.

He gripped her arm. “Come back to your chamber before you’re seen.” The last thing he needed was tongues wagging about his liaison with the mysterious Katherine Beaumont. Not when the future of Whitwell depended upon his marriage to Lord Hywel’s daughter.

He tugged her arm, but she resisted. It was only then that he noticed how her hands shook, her neck cords standing out from her neck as taut as bowstrings. One hand gripped the central pillar with clawed fingers as rigid as the stone they clutched.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t move.” Her voice contained no trace of the defiance that had so riled him earlier.

He looked past her to see if her gown was snagged upon anything, but as far as he could see she was free to move. “Why not?”

Crimson blotches bloomed upon her cheeks. “I’m scared of heights.” Her gaze was fixed on the narrowest curve of the stairs, as it spiraled into nothingness.

“Don’t look down. Look at me.” He positioned himself against the column, blocking her view of the stairs. With agonizing care, she raised her head.

Her lavender-blue gaze speared straight through his chest. It contained no lie, no concealment, just a direct plea for help. It chipped the shield he’d erected around his heart and awoke a deep urge to protect. From herself if necessary.

So does she get down the stairs in one piece? You’ll have to read the book to find out!

The Gift of Time is out on Monday November 26

Pre-order from Amazon: mybook.to/GiftofTime

Blurb:
Hoping to escape her dismal life, young widow Kat Beaumont throws a treasured coin into a lake. But how did a wish send her back in time? Now she's in a snowbound medieval castle complete with vertigo-inducing staircases and smelly drains. While participating in the Christmas festivities, she continues to search for a way home and fights her attraction to the castle's lord, Ralph d'Eyton.

Ralph needs an alliance through marriage to protect his lands and live up to his father's legacy. But Kat, with no influential family, would not make a suitable wife. He resists his fascination with this mysterious and beautiful woman who appeared out of nowhere.

Can Ralph reconcile his dawning love with his need to protect his people, and can Kat let go of her fear of loss and surrender to love?

I'm thrilled to welcome Bella Osborne to my blog today. Bella's latest book, Coming Home to Ottercombe Bay, is out this week. Congratulations, Bella! I've been really looking forward to reading it.

Tell me about the setting for Coming Home to Ottercombe Bay.

Ottercombe Bay is a typical small seaside town on the south Devon coast. It is thriving in summer but just a few locals rattle around come winter. The traditional meets the modern world on Ottercombe Bay beach as half is set aside for the traditional fishing boats that still set sail from the bay daily and half is filled with deckchairs for the many tourists that descend on the small town in the summer months. It’s a small community who look out for each other and we get to know some of the quirky locals during the book.

Was it inspired by a real place?

Ottercombe Bay is a fictional seaside town but it takes a few of its characteristics from a number of places in the West Country including Beer in Devon and West Bay and Lyme Regis in Dorset. I can also pin point it on a map for you if you like? [Yes, please!] Look at a map of Devon and follow the River Otter down from Otterton and where it meets the sea is where I envisaged Ottercombe Bay being located. The derelict railway building was based on the one at West Bay which is now a restaurant.

Do you have a firm idea of the layout? For example, have you drawn maps or diagrams?

Yes, I have drawn a map of Ottercombe Bay and I can picture it like Google Street View in my mind. Is that odd? [Only if I'm odd, too!]

Do you have any special routine, visual aids, etc to get you into the right ‘place’ when writing?

I like to use Pinterest when I’m planning my stories. I’m very visual so it helps me to picture my main characters and setting. Here’s a link to the board I created for Ottercombe Bay https://www.pinterest.co.uk/bellaosborne9/ottercombe-bay/

What’s the first book you read where the setting made a vivid impression?

It was I Capture The Castle by Dodie Smith. I longed to live in the Mortmain’s dilapidated castle and swim in the moat.

Have you ever chosen a book purely based on its setting? If so, what was it and why did the setting appeal?

Not really, unless Harry Potter counts because with each book I longed to be taken back to Hogwarts.

Blurb:

Ottercombe Bay was originally published as a four-part serial. This is the complete story in one package.

Daisy Wickens has returned to Ottercombe Bay, the picturesque Devon town where her mother died when she was a girl. She plans to leave as soon as her great uncle’s funeral is over, but Great Uncle Reg had other ideas. He’s left Daisy a significant inheritance – an old building in a state of disrepair, which could offer exciting possibilities, but to get it she must stay in Ottercombe Bay for twelve whole months.

With the help of a cast of quirky locals, a few gin cocktails and a black pug with plenty of attitude, Daisy might just turn this into something special. But can she ever hope to be happy among the ghosts of her past?


About the author: 

Bella has been jotting down stories as far back as she can remember but decided that 2013 would be the year that she finished a full length novel. In 2016, her debut novel, 'It Started At Sunset Cottage', was shortlisted for the Contemporary Romantic Novel of the Year and RNA Joan Hessayon New Writers Award.

Bella's stories are about friendship, love and coping with what life throws at you. She likes to find the humour in the darker moments of life and weaves these into her stories. Bella believes that writing your own story really is the best fun ever, closely followed by talking, eating chocolate, drinking fizz and planning holidays.

She lives in The Midlands, UK with her lovely husband and wonderful daughter, who thankfully, both accept her as she is (with mad morning hair and a penchant for skipping).

For more about Bella, visit her website at www.bellaosborne.com or follow her on Twitter - @osborne_bella

Purchase Links:

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Coming-Home-Ottercombe-Bella-Osborne-ebook/dp/B078QYQRLL/
Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Coming-Home-Ottercombe-Bella-Osborne/dp/0008258155/
KOBO: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/coming-home-to-ottercombe-bay

I'm thrilled to announce that Bound to Her Blood Enemy is now available! Okay, so I'm a day late, but I was so busy yesterday that I forgot to post *hangs head in shame*.

In a previous post, I said maybe I'd feel like a published author when I had a copy of the book in my own hands. Well, I do have a copy of my book now, and I've had messages from readers to say how much they've enjoyed it, but I still don't feel like a 'proper' author. I suppose all I can do is get on with writing the next book. In the end, that's what proper authors do!

On the subject of next books, I hope to have news soon. I can't say too much, but I can say it's Christmassy. Now that's something hard to contemplate in this heatwave...

A huge thank-you to everyone who has purchased my book. Here's the link if you'd like to take a look: http://mybook.to/boundbloodenemy

I’m delighted to welcome Eleanor Harkstead to the blog today, chatting about the “Captain” books she’s co-written with Catherine Curzon. Thanks for taking part, Eleanor. Over to you!

Tell me about the setting for The Captain and the Cricketer.

The novel is set in the Sussex village of Longley Parva. It's a charming English village set in rolling hills.

Was it inspired by a real place?

I write collaboratively with Catherine Curzon so our settings will be a blend (sometimes subconsciously) of places that both of us know, but we won't necessarily be drawing on the same places. For me, Longley Parva is a patchwork of villages I've known or visited or seen on television! That said, the village is set specifically in the South Downs, so we looked at photos of villages in that area, such as the delightfully named Ditchling, which gives us a feel for the architecture and the types of building materials that are used there. We hunted down photos of the houses that the main characters live in, and discussed the decor so that each of us could "see" it and if needs be we had the information at hand to be able to describe it.


Our first novel that we wrote together, The Captain and the Cavalry Trooper, is partly set in a chateau in northern France. I had a specific chateau in mind, which I was fascinated by as a child on trips to that area. So I found photos of it and shared them with Catherine. But the actual chateau in the novel isn't exactly that one - I've never been inside the original, or seen its stables or grounds so all of that detail came from our imaginations.

Do you have a firm idea of the layout? For example, have you drawn maps or diagrams?

Writing together, we have an idea of the layout of the village, the house, the chateau etc, but we're not pedantic about it. With The Captain and the Cricketer, we decided features such as Henry having a gravel driveway up to his crumbling manor house, and a lake in his garden. We decided that there would be a meadow between his house and the cottage that George is staying in. So they're neighbours, but not quite! Then we fill in details like the village pub, the cricket pavilion, etc.

We don't go into great detail about directions. Do we need to know that Henry turned left out of his driveway unless this information is crucial to the plot? Not really. For example, I'd write "He turned out of his driveway, heading towards the village through the leafy lane." I've read books where the author has gone into unnecessary depth with turning this way or that way, and while I appreciate that's what they can see in their head as their character pootles about, or they're following the route on a map as they write, it just confuses me and I lose track! "Oh no, was he meant to have turned left there?" Unless you give the reader a map, and unless it's vital, I don't think all that "he turned left, then he turned right, then he doglegged round" business is required - I won't remember all that when he drives through the same area again and it hinders the reader. I might say a particular building is "At the entrance to the village" but that's only if it's important. It's tempting to drop in a huge amount of exposition telling the reader where all the bits and bobs of the village are, insisting the reader sees the locale just as the author does, but I feel that just gets in the way.

It's really important for authors to remember that just as the village you're writing about is probably based on places you've known, it's exactly the same for the reader. They'll see their own crumbling manor house, their own lake and driveway, their own leafy lane. And that's absolutely fine - that's, I think, how you can engage readers. Without even knowing they're doing it, the reader is hooking up their imagination to your words.

We have drawn a diagram once, though, when we were working out the position of everyone around a table at dinner!

Do you have any special routine, visual aids, etc to get you into the right ‘place’ when writing?

While I'm working on fiction I always have a piece of my brain ticking over where that place and those characters live. So I could be at the day job, or peeling potatoes, and the novel is there, like a daydream. So I can dip in and out quite easily, and the characters chatter away, and I can see them and their world just as clearly as I can see the one I physically live in.

What’s the first book you read where the setting made a vivid impression?

Jill Murphy's Worst Witch novels, closely followed by M M Kaye's The Ordinary Princess. I was fascinated by the castle where the witches' school was based - it reminded me of the primary school I went to at the time, which was in a creepy old Gothic house!

A large part of The Ordinary Princess - at least, how I remember it after a few (ahem) years - is set in a forest, and I remember it being described so beautifully that I could feel the springy, emerald moss under my feet and see the sun shining through the leaves over my head. I absolutely loved that novel!

Have you ever chosen a book purely based on its setting? If so, what was it and why did the setting appeal?

I read Laurie Lee's As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning because it's partly set in an area of Spain I know quite well, but it's set just before the Spanish Civil War. It's part of Lee's memoir, and it was really interesting to be taken back through time on a trip to an area I know. Certain aspects haven't changed, but quite a lot has - there's so many highrise hotels along the waterfront, but fishermen still draw their boats up onto the beach.

Blurb:

Henry Fitzwalter is a solid sort of chap. An uptight countryside vet and no stranger to tweed, he is the lonely inhabitant of crumbling Longley Parva Manor.

Captain George Standish-Brookes is everyone’s favourite shirtless TV historian. Heroic, handsome and well-travelled, he is coming home to the village where he grew up.

Henry and George’s teenage friendship was shattered by the theft of a cup, the prize in a hard-fought, very British game of cricket. When they resolve their differences thanks to an abandoned foal, it’s only a matter of time before idyllic Longley Parva witnesses one of its wildest romances, between a most unlikely couple of fellows.   

Yet with a golf-loving American billionaire and a money-hungry banker threatening this terribly traditional little corner of Sussex, there’s more than love at stake. A comedy of cricket, coupling and criminality, with a splash of scandal!

Purchase links:

The Captain and the Cavalry Trooper:  mybook.to/captaincavalry
The Captain and the Cricketer:  mybook.to/captaincricketer

About Eleanor Harkstead

Eleanor Harkstead likes to dash about in nineteenth-century costume, in bonnet or cravat as the mood takes her. She knows rather a lot about poisons, and can occasionally be found wandering old graveyards. Eleanor is very fond of chocolate, wine, tweed waistcoats and nice pens. Her large collection of vintage hats would rival Hedda Hopper’s.

Originally from the south-east of England, Eleanor now lives somewhere in the Midlands with a large ginger cat who resembles a Viking.

Links:
www.eleanorharkstead.co.uk
www.facebook.com/eleanorharkstead
www.twitter.com/e_harkstead

Today I’m thrilled to welcome Mick Arnold to my blog, talking about the setting of his novel, The Season For Love. Take it away, Mick.

Tell me about the setting for The Season For Love.

The best way to describe where 'The Season for Love' is just some generic village that's somewhere in my mind.


Was it inspired by a real place?

Following on from the above really.. Not really. My lady wife and I have had a lot of holidays in the UK these last few years and so have spent a lot of time in little, picturesque English villages, so it's an amalgam of all of those. Though I suspect there's an element of Midsummer Murders in there too (without so many bodies though).

Do you have a firm idea of the layout? For example, have you drawn maps or diagrams?

No. With hindsight though, that would be a good idea. If I ever write a sequel though, then I'd give it a go. I do know of authors who do do maps of their locations, sometimes including them in their books too. I know Milly Johnson did one in her last book, and I think Sue Moorcroft has one for herself of Middledip (one of my favourite places to lose myself by the way).


Do you have any special routine, visual aids, etc to get you into the right ‘place’ when writing?

I certainly have to be in the right mood. If I'm in a dark place, then the writing tends to be of the same tone, which can be useful, but if I want to write something light, I sometimes have to wait. However, I can't tend to write in the quiet. There has to be music of a film on in the background.


What’s the first book you read where the setting made a vivid impression?

Easy. When I was at school, we had to read 'The Silver Sword' by Ian Serrallier. It's a book about Jewish children refugees at the tale end of World War II/just afterwards and the descriptions were vivid and so powerful to a thirteen year old mind. It is a truly insipring book.


Have you ever chosen a book purely based on its setting? If so, what was it and why did the setting appeal?

Am I allowed to say Terry Pratchett's Discworld series? Is that a valid location? Well, that's what I choose. Now, I just need to develop his sense of humour!

About Mick:

Mick lives in darkest Northamptonshire with his Lady Wife and a psychotic cat, Drucilla, aka ‘The Anti-Kitty’. He’d been writing on and off for a number of years before deciding to give it a serious go in 2010, the final results of which remain safely locked away.

After discovering a belated love for romantic literature, he joined the Romantic Novelists’ Association New Writer’s Scheme in 2013, graduating with the release of his debut novel, ‘The Season for Love’, in 2017.

He is an active member of the RNA and enjoys the various branch meetings throughout the year. A keen movie lover as well as writer, he finds a lot of his inspiration from various songs he hears on the radio and, subsequently (through there not being enough hours in the day), holds a grudge against Radio 2 for providing him with multiple story ideas.

In a previous life, Mick served in the Royal Air Force for fifteen years, seeing much of the world at HM the Queen’s expense; which worked out nicely for everyone concerned. He much prefers writing to working and looks forward to the time when he can call his writing desk his workplace.

Twitter - @Mick859
Facebook Author Page – M W Arnold Author

Extract:

You never get over a broken heart. You just paper over the cracks and try to keep going.

Goodnight Richie. I miss you.

Pressing a kiss to the picture she kept on her bedside table, she placed her diary down and turned off the light. Staring into the darkness, Chrissie could do nothing but wait for the tears to start. It had been the same routine each and every night since that terrible day eighteen months ago and tonight would be no different. So, drawing the duvet tighter, she succumbed to reliving the day that her husband had been killed. Drawing her knees towards her chest, she let the guilt and tears flood out until exhausted, she collapsed into the usual haunted slumber.

§ § §

The next day dawned way too early and through bloodshot brown eyes. Swinging her feet out of bed, Chrissie shuffled into the tatty pair of her husband’s slippers, tugged on her old fluffy white dressing gown and reluctantly made her way to the bathroom. She shrugged her shoulders and slid the mirror on the bathroom cabinet sideways. Looking at her reflection was not something that she wanted to deal with that morning. Ten minutes later, she’d tied her shoulder length auburn hair back into a pony-tail and pulled on a pair of black jeans, matching pullover and a pair of yellow Doc Martens that clashed horribly with the rest of her outfit. Everyone at school had been nagging her to add a bit of color to the predominantly black she’d taken to wearing and she’d found that Richie’s old boots fitted her perfectly; so long as she wore a thick pair of socks.

Working in the school’s IT Department had been her first job after she’d left university and it was where she’d met Physical Education teacher Richard Stewart. It so happened that they’d been starting on the same day and consequently, they’d spent the whole day trawling through the usual endless orientation and paperwork and found they’d gotten on like the proverbial house on fire. When they’d been introduced and he’d said, ‘call me Mr. Fit Guy or MFG for short,’ and she hadn’t either laughed out loud or slapped his face, an unspoken understanding had flashed between them and, as they left the premises later that afternoon, they’d wandered off to the nearest pub and spent until closing time talking about everything and nothing and loving every minute.

Grabbing her bag, Chrissie locked the car and trudged up the steps of Parkway Grange Primary School, through the still empty atrium and down the corridor towards her shared office. If she was lucky, she’d be able to settle at her desk before her boss got in. She loved Annie Suso, but though they were best friends, she was getting a little tired of starting each day by being asked how she was doing? Annie wasn’t saying the actual words these days, but Chrissie was finding it very annoying at how much you could put into a raised eyebrow!

As the door opened, she knew her luck was out, so she plastered on her most convincing smile and looked up into her friend’s emerald green eyes. The daily routine followed its expected course. Annie didn’t need to know that she’d rushed out of her cottage that morning because the stupid radio DJ had insisted upon playing “their song”.

Picking up the To-Do list, she scanned down it for the most mind-numbing job, quickly locating a teacher who’d been using his DVD tray as a cup holder. Grabbing her diary from her bag, she told Annie where she was going and that she’d see her later. One of the benefits of working with her best friend was that she had the freedom to do pretty much what she wanted, it being just the pair of them in the whole department. The children were just starting to arrive so hurrying along the corridor she nipped into the staff toilets, opened a cubicle door, sat down on the seat and took out her diary.

‘Hi Richie. Well, things are still the same as yesterday, and the day before and the day before that. You know, I visualize you watching over me, it’s the only comfort I have. Oh, I could sit here all day and talk to you, just like we used to in the common room. Do you remember how many times we were called in to see the Headmistress because I’d made you late for your classes? Felt very much like a kid, but I miss those times so much.

Right, sorry, got to go and see some idiot about a computer now.

Love you babe. I miss you.’

§ § §

Driving home that night, Chrissie wondered for the thousandth time why she didn’t change jobs and move away. Truth was she didn’t want to be too far from Richard’s grave. He’d grown up in Parkway Grange, been educated in the same Primary school, then the neighboring village’s Secondary and finally the College in the nearest town five miles away. He’d only been away to University to get his Physical Education Degree and then hot-footed it back when he’d lucked out with the offer of Physical Education teacher at the Village’s Primary school. Then, he had died in the village.

Automatically, she took a left turn before her cottage and parked up outside the cemetery. It was a typical late November evening so sighing resignedly she put up her umbrella as she got out of the car and, shielding her face as best she could from the rain, pushed open the gate and strolled down the pathway to the shade of an ancient beech tree. Sitting down on the bench, she leant forward, ignoring the dripping of the rainwater down her neck and brushing some leaves off the small granite headstone, focused on the most important words in the world:
See you in my dreams Richie. Forever, Your beloved Chrissie



Purchase Links:

Amazon UK: amzn.eu/dtLYu3x

Kobo UK: tinyurl.com/ydb9em2x

Amazon US: tinyurl.com/ya88xjn3

Kobo US: tinyurl.com/ycvage9b

Not long now! I’m thrilled to announce that Bound to Her Blood Enemy will be released on Monday June 25th, and it’s now available to pre-order on Amazon UK and from the Wild Rose Press Catalogue.

Now that I’ve seen my very own book listed on Amazon, I’m starting to believe this is really happening. Maybe. I think I said the same thing when I first saw my cover. Basically, most days I find it hard to believe my book is being published. I get a brief blip of belief when something happens like seeing the cover art for the first time, then I dip back into this-can’t-really-be-happening mode. Maybe it will stick this time, or maybe I’ll only get it into my head when I hold one of my books in my own hands. Watch this space!

Pre-order links
Amazon (UK)
Amazon (US)
The Wild Rose Press Catalogue