Category Archives: Writer Interviews

SUNDAY SCENE: NICOLA PRYCE ON HER FAVOURITE SCENE FROM THE CORNISH CAPTIVE

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I’m delighted to share my favourite scene from The Cornish Captive. Set in a busy harbour on the south coast of Cornwall in 1800, Madelaine Pelligrew, a French aristocrat by birth, is walking on the beach for the first time in fourteen years. Recently released from false imprisonment she had almost given up hope of freedom. As she walks, revelling in the feel of the sand beneath her feet and the wind in her hair, she sees a seagull trapped in the rocks.

The struggling seagull triggers a need in her to free it. Equating the bird’s desperate attempts to free itself with her own plight, she ventures beyond the shingle. At once, her foot sinks into sand, her shoe becomes trapped, and her panic rises. A French frigate captain is also walking on the beach: a prisoner on parole, he has previously helped Madelaine find accommodation and he wades out to assist her.

        ‘The water was deeper than I thought, up to his thighs, but he kept striding out and I held my breath. He reached the seagull and held it up. It lay still in his hands, not the slightest movement and I covered my face, unable to stop my violent sobs. ‘Oh no … no…’

        The need to free it had been so powerful. I could feel myself shaking, a growing sense of agitation. My heart was thumping, pounding with sudden irregularity and I fought to breathe. Everywhere was too vast, the seagulls too loud, the sky too high. He stood smiling across at me, holding up the dead bird. ‘A piece of white drift wood, that’s all. But I must admit it looked very like a seagull struggling against the rock.’

Madelaine is very vulnerable at this stage and Piere de la Croix has already shown her great kindness by leaving a bowl of fruit for her at the inn. Yet she shies away from him, hiding behind her false name.

          ‘Please don’t think me ungrateful. My brother-in-law doesn’t take kindly to your interference. We must never meet like this again.’

         ‘As you wish.’ His voice held sadness, a stiffness in his manner as he pointed me up the beach.

         ‘That includes oranges, Captain de la Croix.’

         He reached for his jacket. ‘Once a ship’s captain, always a ship’s captain – always vigilant for the signs of scurvy. You will get better, Mrs Barnard, and quickly, too. Just eat as many oranges as you can and drink the juice of lemons and limes.’ 

           His hair was ruffled, dark lashes framed his eyes. He held up his hand to shield them against the sun. I did not want to see the kindness in his eyes, nor hear his consideration for my welfare. He was lying. All men were liars. He was a Republican spy: his only intention to trap my brother.

          Above us, soldiers in scarlet jackets watched from the fort. One was holding a telescope to his eye and Pierre smiled. ‘Do they think I’m about to steal a rowing boat?’ His laugh sounded hollow, a sadness in his shrug. ‘I’m allowed this far … yet they don’t like me being so near their fortifications.’

Later, Captain Pierre de la Croix carves a seagull out of the driftwood and it becomes Madelaine’s symbol of escape. The beach, too, features several more times: indeed this scene foreshadows a turning point in the story which is why I have chosen to share it with you.

 

http://nicolapryce.co.uk/

SUNDAY SCENE: LYNNE SHELBY ON HER FAVOURITE SCENE FROM ROME FOR THE SUMMER

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Kate Harper, the heroine of my new book, Rome For the Summer, has always loved the painting that has hung in her parents’ dining room for years, never suspecting that it is worth a fortune – until her art dealer boyfriend cheats her family out of the proceeds of the painting’s sale, leaving her devastated.

Kate discovers that, two hundred years ago, the girl in the painting, Charlotte Browne, ran off to Rome with the artist who painted her portrait. He abandoned her, but her eventual fate is unknown. Hoping to uncover the mystery of what happened to Charlotte, Kate seizes the chance of a summer job in Rome, where she strikes up a friendship with artist Jamie Taylor . . .

One of my favourite scenes in the book, takes place on Kate’s first day in the city, when Jamie takes her to see the Trevi Fountain, leading her through ‘a maze of streets’ narrow enough for her ‘to wonder how the cars parked along their length could possibly have driven down them.’ Passing apartments with flowers tumbling from their tiny balconies, restaurants with tables outside on the pavement, fruit stalls, ‘and street vendors selling anything from red roses to dubious leather handbags,’ they round a corner into bright sunlight and Kate hears the sound of rushing water . . .

‘Oh – there it is!’ I exclaimed. There in front of me was the famous Trevi Fountain, its white marble statues glowing in the late afternoon sun, water splashing down into a turquoise pool, the steps surrounding it packed with tourists, most of them holding up camera phones. It was a scene familiar to me from every movie set in Rome that I’d ever watched, and yet it took my breath away.

Writing this scene through the eyes of a character who has never visited Rome before bought back memories of my first visit to the city – my reaction on seeing sites like the Trevi Fountain, the Colosseum or the view from the Palatine Hill for the first time, was very similar to Kate’s!

The scene is also the first time Jamie, who spotted Kate sketching on the Spanish Steps earlier in the day, offers to help her improve her painting and drawing technique.

I looked again at the fountain with its statues of a man and two galloping horses set against a backdrop of a palace façade, and knew that I didn’t have the skill to capture it on paper.
‘I could never draw something like that,’ I said.
Jamie raised his eyebrows. ‘You don’t know that.’
‘Believe me, I do,’ I said. ‘I’m no good at drawing people or horses, even if they’re made of marble.’
‘I could help you draw them,’ he said, ‘if you’d like me too.’ He smiled encouragingly, and somehow, even although I felt sure he would be wasting his time, I found myself nodding my head.

Kate’s drawing of the fountain turns out a lot better than she expected, Jamie’s encouragement helping her find the confidence that she lacks to believe that she can actually draw, foreshadowing the way her summer in Rome will lead to her finding the confidence to pursue her dreams and ambitions in other areas of her life as well.

I very much enjoyed writing this scene and giving my heroine a great first day in the Eternal City. As Jamie says to her, at the end of the chapter, as they share a bottle of wine and a pizza at a pavement café: ‘Benvenuti a Roma, Kate.’

 

www.lynneshelby.com

 

 

 

SUNDAY SCENE: KILEY DUNBAR ON HER FAVOURITE SCENE FROM SUMMER AT THE HIGHLAND CORAL BEACH

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I call my third novel, Summer at the Highland Coral Beach, ‘the book of my heart’ as it was deeply emotional to write.

The story follows Bea six months after the miscarriage of her longed-for baby. She’s approaching her fortieth birthday, her marriage has ended, and she’s spiralling. Bea books a spur-of-the-moment crafting holiday in the highlands at the eccentric Princess and the Pea Inn (complete with towering fairy-tale bed). Here, Bea has time to wild swim off the coral beach, make beautiful things, and process her grief a little, helped by willow weaving tutor, Atholl.

Having grown used to keeping her grief to herself (so often grieving parents find they have no outlet for their sadness), the words spill from her during a panic attack witnessed by Atholl. He strikes upon a way of helping Bea begin to say goodbye.

I love this scene because it depicts things not all that often discussed in ‘light’, cosy romances.

He produced a parcel from under his arm and unwrapped the brown paper that protected it. ‘I thought maybe, if you want, you could make use of this wee thing?’

He handed her the intricately weaved hollow bassinette shaped curiously like a Russian doll or an ancient Egyptian sarcophagus with a round hole where the face would be.

‘I made it myself of the spring’s youngest willow back in March.’
‘It’s lovely. What is it?’ Bea asked.
‘It was for a talk Seth was giving about old Highland customs. It’s a swaddling basket. You’d wrap the baby in cloths and bands, tucking them up tight so they could sleep, and then they’d be placed inside the basket and worn over the parent’s back while they worked in the fields or at the fishes.’
‘It’s beautiful. It’s tiny, though. Too small for a newborn.’
‘It was only a model, to show what the real thing would be like.’

Beatrice turned it over in her hands, her eyes misting, and she looked up at him, hesitatingly, still unsure of what he intended her to do.

‘There’s another Highland custom, an ancient one, going back to the earliest folk on the land,’ he said softly. ‘When a loved one passed, they would swaddle them too like a bairn, placing them in the water, letting the tides carry them home.’

Beatrice took his meaning and she bobbed her head as the silent tears came again.

‘Do you want to do it now? There’s a braw moon lighting the harbour.’
‘All right.’

Those were the last words they said to each other that night as Beatrice, the mother of a loved son, threaded the Highland posy of forget-me-nots, heather and white campion into the loose basket work, weaving each flower in amongst the shoots from the sappy willows as Atholl watched on.

When her work was done she left the inn, crossing the dark road and leaning over the sea wall. Atholl stayed by the inn porch, close enough to see her kiss the little bundle before lowering the empty bassinette onto the surface of the gentle waters.

Neither could tell how long it took for the horizon to claim the floating focus of so much of her grief but by sunrise it was gone and Beatrice was asleep soundly in her bed.

 

Despite the sadness, there’s love and laughter in store for Bea and Atholl. I’ve received many messages from parents saying how Bea’s story helped them. I hope it continues to offer a wee bit of brightness to yet more readers when Summer at the Highland Coral Beach comes out on paperback this July.

One in four pregnancies end in miscarriage, the miscarriage association is there to help: https://www.miscarriageassociation.org.uk/

 

 

 

SUNDAY SCENE: NANCY PEACH ON HER FAVOURITE SCENE FROM LOVE LIFE

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My debut novel Love Life is set in and around a hospice (admittedly an unusual choice for a romantic comedy) but one of my favourite moments in the book is when the heroine, Tess Carter (a palliative care doctor) visits the home of her patient, Mary Russel. Tess has a complicated relationship with the Russel family. Mary’s son Edward is in denial about his mother’s terminal illness and remains conflicted about the hospice and everything it stands for, including Tess. On this occasion she is visiting the house to return a scarf to Edward but is not sure what to expect. She knows that the Russel family are wealthy, but the family home is a bit more substantial than she’d anticipated.

‘Tess was entirely unprepared for the view of the Russell residence, which was indeed just up the hill from the vet’s practice. As she cornered round the leafy lane that circumnavigated the estate she caught a glimpse of the main house, a Georgian manor in mellow stone nestled amongst smaller outbuildings, including a carriage house and stable block. She pulled to a stop on the gravel drive, half expecting a butler from a Merchant Ivory production to emerge from the main portico and open her passenger door. She sat for a moment in the car just gazing in awe at her surroundings; the lawn rolling down away from the house towards a thicket of trees, the neatly trimmed box hedges that bordered the drive, the sash windows reflecting the early sunlight and lending a cheerful openness to the façade.’

The novel is set in Bristol and has a Pride and Prejudice theme, featuring a Jane Austen character as one of Tess’s internal narrators, and a hero with hints of Mr Darcy. I love the architecture of this period and the Russel house combines elements of Georgian splendour with the warmth of a family home, complete with canine companions.

‘She made her way round to the back of the house, where she found a weathered rear door with iron boot scrapers at either side. She knocked hard against the door panel and found that it was ajar. With some trepidation she nudged it open and called out “Hello?” Almost immediately there was a cacophony of noise from within the house, barking and the scrabbling of claws across tiles, and she was nearly knocked off her feet by a pack of dogs hurtling into her, tails wagging. The first three dogs were rangy setters, their knobbly heads knocking into her thighs as she fussed over them. A few moments later an elderly cocker spaniel with cloudy eyes shuffled into view and the setters backed off to allow the senior member of the party to greet the visitor.

“Hello?” Edward’s familiar voice shouted through from the next room, “I’m just in here, come through.”

Tess made her way into the kitchen accompanied by the enthusiastic canines and discovered Edward, clad in damp running gear holding his ankle behind him with one hand to stretch out his quads whilst supporting himself on the back of a chair with his other hand. He looked up at her in surprise.

“Dr Carter! How nice.” He was smiling, although she couldn’t tell if it was genuine pleasure at seeing her or more of a grimace as his muscles relaxed into the stretch. He released his right ankle and repeated the move with the left whilst trying to fend off the dogs who were all trying to get involved in the warm down. Tess was mortified.’

 

www.nancy-peach.com

My Writing Process Tetyana Denford

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I remember when my mother called me, because the weather had been mild and the air smelled of the coming Spring. It was 2015, and we were living in the UK, so the 5 hour time difference meant that it was already late in New York when I heard her voice on the phone. Her tone was tender, and not a little bit numb and distant, and I would soon understand why: a family secret.

I had grown up in a relatively standard Ukrainian family: I was raised within the language, the traditions, and as I was an only child, my parents would make sure Ukrainian was the world that I knew and flourished within. We lived with my maternal grandmother, Yulia, and whilst her stories of wartime Ukraine were harrowing, nothing was ever out of the ordinary.

And then, we all learned something about her past that seemed more like a movie script than anything we’d ever imagined in real life. For me, my status as an only child, and a writer, meant that it was up to me to write the story down, for the family, for myself, and for my children to know our family story in detail. But could I do it justice? The impostor syndrome was very real, as most writers can attest to on their best days.

The first thing that I learned about writing a book is that the first few drafts are always the story, not the ‘book’; chronological, sometimes painful, but always the purest form. Once I started researching Ukraine, World War II, passenger lists on post-war ships heading to Australia, and New York in the 1960s… the book started coming to life. I’ll admit it felt like it took a solid two years to finish the first few drafts because at the time, my three children were all under eight years old, and my husband was travelling for work constantly, so I had very little time to write apart from very early in the morning or very late at night. It wasn’t easy, but I knew in my bones that this story was an important one to memorialize, because if I didn’t, it would disappear with the passage of time, like so many other family stories.

My grandmother was still alive and still had a semblance of memories stitching her life together in her mind whilst I was writing this, so old photographs and conversations were priceless for me to be able to place myself in her mindset when she was living through all of these painful periods in her life, and what fascinates me now, looking back, is that the current newsreel detailing the war in Ukraine runs in stark parallel to what she and generations of her family had lived through and fought against in the early 1900s and all through the second world war. And we are reminded now that history has a long pattern of repeating itself, because no one seems to remember how hard people fought for their sovereignty.

And now, now I feel proud of knowing that as a younger generation Ukrainian, I have written a story, a whole book, of what people are discovering about Ukraine and its people: their pride, their loyalty to the country that made them, their generosity in standing up for any people who are marginalized and forgotten, their fierce love for their family and friends, and their stubborn refusal to ever back down in their music, their art, their willingness to hope.

I am not an anomaly: there are so many Ukrainian writers and authors and translators who are now taking up the fight and using their voices as a war effort, when they are living all across the world worrying about their friends and their families in danger. We are the future, our stories begin with emotional phone calls, our writings are stitched together with anger and hope, and our platforms are flooded with calls to action from not only Ukrainians but anyone who chooses to stand on the right side of humanity and amplify the stories that make us who we are.

Our words are the weapons we choose to affect the hearts and minds of the entire world, not just to support Ukraine but to remember that all of our family stories are the threads that bind us and remind us to wish for a better future. 

Author Bio

Tetyana Denford grew up in a small town in New York, and is a Ukrainian-American author, translator, and freelance writer. She grew up with her Ukrainian heritage at the forefront of her childhood, and it led to her being fascinated with how storytellers in various cultures passed down their lives to future generations; life stories are where we learn about ourselves, each other, and are the things that matter most, in a world where things move so quickly.

Her debut novel, Motherland was self-published in March 2020 to critical success and longlisted for The Readers Digest Self Published Book Awards. It was based on an incredible family secret that was revealed by her maternal grandmother, Julia, only recently, and has been described by people as ‘haunting’, ‘powerful and devastating’, and ‘a fragile and hopeful story of an immigrant family’. In March 2022, Tetyana signed a 2-book deal with Bookcouture, an imprint of Hachette, and Motherland will be re-released in July 2022 with a new title and cover.

She also works with Frontline News as a translator, has been featured in The New York Times, The Telegraph, The Flock Magazine and Mother Tongue Magazine, and speaks several languages. She also hosts a YouTube show called ‘The Craft and Business of Books’ that helps writers understand both the creative side and the business side of the book world. Her series of ‘conversation books’, collections of poetry and prose about Grief, Motherhood, and Love, were published in 2021.

Tetyana currently lives in New York with her husband and three children.

About the Book

Ukraine, 1940. She cups her daughter’s face with her trembling hands, imprinting it on her mind. ‘I love you. Be brave, ’she whispers through her tears, her heart breaking into a thousand pieces. Sending her child away is the only way to keep her safe. But will she ever see her again?

When war rips their country apart, Julia is sent away by her tearful parents in the dead of night, clutching her mother’s necklace and longing for one last embrace. But soon she is captured by Nazi soldiers and forced into a German labour camp, where behind a tall fence topped with cruel barbed wire, she has never felt more alone.

Just as she begins to give up on all hope, Julia meets Henry, a young man from her village who shares her heart full of dreams. And when she feels a fluttering in her belly that grows and grows, she longs to escape the camp and begin a new life with their child. But then Julia is forced to make a terrible choice. A choice no mother should have to make.

New York, 2011. With her heart shattered and her life changed forever by the shadows of war, as the years go by Julia thinks she will never be whole again. For decades she has been carrying a terrible secret with her, her every moment tainted by tragedy and loss since those dark days of the war.

But when she receives a phone call in the middle of the night, far away from the home and family she lost in the war, will Julia finally be reunited with the missing piece of her heart? Or is it too late for her wounds to heal?

Based on the incredible true story of the author’s grandparents, The Child of Ukraine is a breathtakingly powerful tale of love, loss and family secrets, perfect for fans of The Four Winds, The Last Green Valley, and The Nightingale.

 
This novel was previously published under the name Motherland.

PUBLICATION DAY SPECIAL: THE LOVE EXPERIMENT BY KITTY WILSON

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Sometimes I fall in love with a book instantly, and sometimes it takes a little while. This was one of the latter, but let me tell you, by the final chapters I was laughing and sobbing at more or less the same time, which isn’t the best of looks in a busy Starbucks branch.

The premise of The Love Experiment is deceptively simple; Lily won’t date – even staying the night after a hook up is too much like commitment, and Jay can’t date – he’s promised his sister he won’t in an attempt to show her that changing the habits of a lifetime is possible. But there the cliches end.

All the characters, large and larger than life, are drawn with an incredible eye for detail and a roundness that is often missing in romantic comedy. They were real and will stay with me for a very long time. And laugh? Did I mention a fair chunk of the action is set in a drag club? The names of the artists alone was enough to make me cackle. And don’t even get me started on the harpist…

This book is laugh out loud funny while at the same time dealing with serious issues and the horrendous scars they leave. The more I came to know about Lily’s past the more I ached for her to be able to move forwards. The more I understood what made her the way she is. The more I wanted to be her friend.

Lily’s backstory and what happened to her as a teenager really got to me. So much so I had to ask Kitty Wilson why she decided to shape her character that way:

Thank you. Lily is far from my usual heroine and is polished, successful and on the surface has it all but, underneath, is a scared young girl desperate for a sense of control.

When I was creating her, I initially wanted to highlight women’s health, I know so many women with periods that are completely incapacitating[1] and yet I haven’t seen it mentioned often in novels. That was my starting point but, as an author, it is hard not to be shaped by the things around you. As I wrote the first draft, the discussion of women’s safety was at its peak with the subsequent growth of Everybody’s Invited illustrating how schools and universities were often far from the places of safety that every parent hopes. This awareness worked its way into Lily’s story and when her body changes as a teen, things take a dark turn as name-calling in school morphs into something more sinister.

I did consider carefully whether these themes should be included but they are so frequent in women’s lives it felt wrong to cut them, so Lily was born, a high achiever who is privately carrying the weight of gynaecological issues and a related history of childhood bullying. These two things then shape all her life decisions; decisions that on the surface look like they are healthy, empowered choices but are actually indicators of deep-rooted scars.

But I love a happy ending – I write romance after all – and adore weaving through the joys in our lives, and hopefully The Love Experiment brings many, many moments of light and laughter to brighten Lily’s path as she learns to defeat the dark and open herself to life and love at its fullest.

 

 

[1] One in ten women in the UK have endometriosis and another one in ten have PCOS. https://www.endometriosis-uk.org/information

https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/polycystic-ovary-syndrome-pcos/

 

 

 

 

SUNDAY SCENE: AUDREY HARRISON ON HER FAVOURITE SCENE FROM THE SPINSTER’S CAPTAIN

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I have been writing and publishing Regency romances since 2011, being fortunate enough to be a finalist in the Amazon Kindle Storyteller competition and the Romantic Novelists Association Award. I never thought I would write anything other than my regencies, but there was a story in my husband’s family history which has niggled in the background as I wrote in my genre. I had resisted it as it was set in the Victorian era and although close to the Regency, there were still differences which could be stumbling blocks for me.

The story was that In 1846, a spinster travelled to America from Scotland to be a housekeeper for her brother. Domestic staff were hard to come by, so what was more perfect than a spinster sister? Unfortunately for the brother in America, there was also a handsome captain on the ship which was to bring his sister to him.

Researching the story was fascinating, when I (finally) gave in to family requests to write it. Most of the action had to take part onboard ship and so I started down the rabbit hole which was seafaring life.

We consider history as a different world, the language, manners, and rules, but throw in life on the water and there is even more to contend with! In my view sailors were so brave stepping aboard ship, let alone spending their lives onboard. Even within the family history, there is more than one shipwreck. It was a harsh life, but one which could reap rewards, as in the case of our captain.

I do love research, it is the part that I have to contain myself, only so much factual detail can be put into a romance before it becomes a non-fiction book! It doesn’t matter that readers don’t know the hours of research which can go into one sentence.

My resources were hundreds of books I own, and visits to various Maritime Museums all give me the buzz to create the little snapshots of life onboard ship as in this extract:

The call “Who’s for the shore?” had rung out across the ship and through the levels below deck. There had been a final scurry of activity before Robert was approached by David as he stood at the helm.
“We’re ready, Capt’n.”
“Without a moment to spare,” Robert responded.
“Perfect timing then.”
“I was beginning to think we would be stuck in port another day.”
“Oh ye of little faith. As if I would be so tardy.”
“In that case, all hands to weigh anchor and make sail,” Robert instructed.
“Aye, aye, Capt’n.”

The story turned into a trilogy, using two of the other siblings of the spinster. In a family of eleven, they were at the forefront of moving because of the real changes caused by the industrial revolution and it was fascinating enough to keep my research flowing.

The final in the trilogy is set in America, when land was being developed and for the first time men could own the land they worked on, rather than be tenants. So, although I was hesitant to start these stories, I loved writing them.

I have now returned to my regencies, I love taking a snippet of history, whether the Foundling Hospital, the Napoleonic Wars or how they dealt with injuries and disabilities and weaving a romance around that. Always being one who has hovered on the edge of society because of shyness and chronic illness, I will always fight for the underdog to get their happy ever after. It just has to be set in the time in history that I love.

 

www.audreyharrison.co.uk

 

 

SUNDAY SCENE: RACHEL BRIMBLE ON THE SETTING FOR HER LADIES OF CARSON STREET TRILOGY

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There are two reasons I have set all my historical romances in the wonderful city of Bath, England – one) I live just a short 30 minute drive away and 2) it is filled with the most beautiful Roman, Georgian and Victorian architecture, the most amazing side streets as well as a plethora of grand (and not so grand) buildings that I pretty much use as my imagination dictates.

As Bath is obviously a real place, you might be wondering how I can use some of its buildings however I see fit. The explanation is simple – I don’t tell readers which buildings are imaginary! Thankfully, unless I use famous Bath buildings like the Abbey, the Pump Room or Royal Crescent, my audience seem to be happy to follow my lead.

For my latest series, the Ladies of Carson Street, I once again return to Bath.

However, rather than spending time enjoying high tea in the Pump Room or dancing in the Assembly Rooms, you will find the heroines of the trilogy, Louisa, Nancy and Octavia, either living and working from their house on Carson Street, frequenting the backstreet taverns or watching an act at the Theatre Royal.

In book 1, A Widow’s Vow, Louisa and Nancy arrive in Bath from Bristol to start anew after Louisa is unexpected widowed and left with nothing more than the keys to a Bath property she had no idea existed…

They walked along the sweeping curved wall surrounding the gushing waters of the River Avon and a beautifully landscaped area known as, according to Louisa’s map, the Parade Gardens. The barren trees were interspersed with evergreens, the soil beds empty of flowers in winter but imaginings of how the gardens might look in the summer months gave Louisa a flicker of optimism.

Continuing to walk along the cobbled street, she and Nancy neared the row of terrace houses.

‘Carson Street.’ Nancy pointed to a sign bolted to one of the corner houses adjacent to a busy thoroughfare filled with carriages, horses and pedestrians. ‘This is it.’

Locating the right house wasn’t difficult as Louisa had memorised the deeds so often and so intensely, the pencilled sketch of Anthony’s property was clearly drawn in her mind. ‘Anthony’s house is—’

‘Ahem, your house.’ Nancy grinned.

‘My house is about halfway along the street.’ Louisa inhaled a shaky breath. ‘Come on. I want this over with.’

She marched ahead of Nancy, pulling a brass front door key from her purse. Purposefully, Louisa drew forth her anger at Anthony’s lies, betrayal and cowardice. Lord knew, she would have to take strength from somewhere if she was ever to believe such a property was now hers to do with as she would. Lifting her chin, she shrouded herself in an invisible layer of protection against whatever further hurts were to come in her uncertain future.

But once she was standing outside the residence, her bravado floundered.

The house was beautiful. Built in a butter-coloured stone, its sash windows were flanked with velvet drapery, the front door painted a dark grass-green, complete with brass knocker and a stone ornament decorating its step. The longer Louisa stared, the more strongly inevitability enveloped her. She had survived this long and she would continue to survive, come what may.

 

This extract perfectly introduces you to the tone of the series and to two of the main three characters in the trilogy. Gritty, sometimes tough, sometimes hilarious, the Ladies of Carson Street are an unforgettable trio!

 

Rachel’s Website: https://rachelbrimble.com/