I’m thrilled that Beneath Cornish Skies was shortlisted for the RNA Romantic Novel Awards 2022 in the Fantasy Romantic Novel category. By now, the winner will have been announced! It’s too hard to choose a favourite scene so I’ve chosen an extract from the prologue:
To outsiders, Cassandra Shaw’s life looks perfect but her reality is very different to people’s perceptions. Insecure and suspicious of her good-looking, charismatic, businessman boyfriend, this is a recurring dream she has.
Before me lay a thick, impenetrable forest stretching as far as the eye could see. It was dark and foreboding and I shivered with apprehension. In the distance, a firefly darted towards me through the trees and as the pinprick of light grew closer, it hovered at the edge of the woodland… beckoning. I knew I had no choice but to enter and though fearful of the unknown, I took a tentative step. Pushing aside the undergrowth, I followed the beacon of light and drifted through the foliage like a spirit, twisting and turning through the trees. As I glanced up at the dense canopy that inhibited any natural light, I found my body rising through the branches, without control over speed, until high above the forest I gazed down upon a wild, rugged landscape shrouded in darkness.
Photo credit: Nigel Kivell
On the wind I detected a scent of the ocean and raising my eyes to the heavens, I watched dark cirrus clouds scudding across the night sky to reveal a wash of twinkling stars and planets. A halo of light surrounded the moon, its inner edge tinged red; the outer an altogether bluer hue. Gazing earthwards again, I noticed the thick tree canopy stretched for miles – like a spill of ink across the landscape. All at once I was descending and as I plunged through the roof of the forest I closed my eyes, bracing myself against the scratch and claw of twig and branch. But, unscathed, I floated gracefully to the forest floor.
It’s a landscape Cass doesn’t recognise and as the dream continues, she follows the firefly through the forest until reaching a gypsy encampment.
And then, through the flickering firelight, I saw you sitting on a log on the far side of the camp, deep in conversation with the man beside you. No one had noticed me and, moving closer, I took the opportunity to gaze at your face in wonder. You were not like the others; you shared none of their darkness. Prone to curls, your dark blond hair framed 
a genuine, open face that was teasingly familiar, and yet not. As your lips formed silent words I studied you: the slant of your brow; the sharp angle of your cheekbones; the shape of your nose; the tight line of your jaw. And I noticed the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed. Suddenly you smiled and I gasped, as intense, stirring sensations took hold deep in my belly.
From out of the corner of my eye I saw a man approaching. He requested a dance but, impatiently, I brushed him away, and when I turned back you were looking directly at me. Your gaze asked a question, and for a heartbeat I stopped breathing. I no longer had the ability to drift and cautiously, as if in experiment, I placed one foot in front of the other and stepped uncertainly towards the fire. But the heat was too fierce and I glanced at you in confusion. Had I misunderstood?
In a voice soft and tender, you encouraged me. ‘You can do it. Follow the path.’
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