A Moment With… Dave Flint
I am pleased to be taking part in the blog tour for Hidden Intentions, the latest novel from Dave Flint.
Toby could… and Toby would.
‘Enjoy yourself as you rot, old man. And you’re not my dad – you never were.’ Southern England, September 1957
When thirteen-year-old Toby Mitcher’s mum collapses, never to wake up, Toby’s alcoholic stepfather becomes his legal guardian. He thought life couldn’t get much worse, but was he wrong.
Time passes, and an orderly direction comes into his life. That is until problems start and the disappearances begin.
No more being put upon or allowing bad situations to happen.
From now on, Toby is in control. Or is he?
To celebrate the release of his novel, Dave has joined me today to talk about his favourite things about being an author. Over to you, Dave.
Up until eight years ago, I never imagined being an author. To me, the most significant challenge and excitement came when I sat in front of my computer with an idea. It could be a drabble of 100 words, a short story for a competition or something else. As to the completed novel, straight away, I can say, seeing my book out there and knowing I wrote it has to be a Wow factor! When I first entered into the writing world at my local writers’ group, I was surprised how individuals, authors and people who enjoyed turning up relished advising others, encouraging them to go for what they wanted to write about. Within six months of joining that group and never before having done anything like it. I knew I wanted to write a book. My second novel is underway, and I have more stories that require attention that I have shelved.
Favourite things about being an author are still unknown to me at this stage, other than what I have said. But the feeling I got when I won a short story prize was at my first attempt was amazing. At the award ceremony, listening to those people clapping for me was something I have never experienced before. Members of my writing group and others who were authors I had never seen before congratulated me that evening. Having your photo taken, and giving a speech was brilliant if not unreal for me. I still have the large cheque presented to me under my bed from that time, something I will keep knowing I can accomplish a written work.
by 
Book Review: Idle Hands by Cassondra Windwalker
You can call me Ella. You generally assign me a whole host of other preposterous monikers. I think the least imaginative name I’ve heard is “the devil”, but I’ll answer to it if I must.
After making the courageous decision to leave her abusive husband, Perdie and her three young children start over and finally find the safety and love they deserve. But years later, when tragedy strikes, Perdie is left wondering if the choice she made to leave has led them to this moment.
If she were given the opportunity to take it all back and stay, would she?
In a frantic bid to protect her family, Perdie makes a deal to do just that. But in a world where the devil pulls the strings, can Perdie really change the past?
Brimming with enlightened observations and brilliant voice, Idle Hands is a haunting examination of grief, resilience, and what we’d give to spend another moment with the ones we love.
Perdie decides to leave her abusive husband. To begin with, it’s hard on her and her three children, Hannah, Rachel and Tad but eventually, the family finds some of the happiness that they have previously missed out on.
That is, until ten years later, tragedy strikes.
This book fascinated me from the first page to the last word. So much so that I read it across one day.
I found Perdie such a frustrating but compelling character. I wanted her to be OK but at the same time, I wanted to scream through the pages at her. She is broken and at times, I struggled to have sympathy with her. However, I could not relate to her on the physical abuse and it’s hard to know how I would react in that situation. Whatever she chose, she was potentially in a no win situation and that’s a horrible circumstance to be in. She was certainly a character of many layers who wanted to do the best for her children.
The plot very cleverly explores the question of ‘what if’ as well as family, love and friendship. It’s all woven into a strong, heartbreaking story that I knew was going to have an effect on me from the moment I began to read. The majority of us have probably, at some point said ‘I would give anything to spend some more time with..,’ or ‘I wish I had more time.’ This book has a unique perspective on that.
by Book Extract: The Casanova Papers by Kate Zarrelli
A big welcome to Kate Zarrelli. She’s here with the blog tour for her latest novel, The Casanova Papers.
Ellie Murphy takes a contract teaching English at a school in Venice. There she meets the sexy, enigmatic Professor Piero Contarini, from an ancient Venetian family, and agrees to help him in his work curating a new edition of the memoirs of the famous seducer, Giacomo Casanova. T
aking their task seriously, they start to enact his adventures with each other, ecstatically revealing their own kinks as they do so. But who is watching them from the shadowy alleyways of Venice?
Kate has shared an extract with us today so sit back and enjoy.
(Content warning: adult themes.)
*****beginning of extract*****
Ellie, a young English teacher working in Venice, has agreed to help the enigmatic Professor Contarini curate his definitive edition of the writings of Casanova….
Piero walked her through the maze of alleys and passageways with such confidence that Ellie thought he could probably have done so blindfolded. Shortly after they had crossed the Grand Canal at the Accademia Bridge, she lost her bearings completely. Sometimes they would emerge into a piazza bright with lights and laughter, only to plunge into a dimly lit gap between high, dark buildings, in which all that could be heard was the sound of their footsteps. Often the narrowness of the path meant he was right at her shoulder—he’d indicate where to turn by a hand gently at her elbow guiding her over a little bridge across a darkly-glittering canal. Later, the hand came to rest more proprietorially in the small of her back. I’m completely in his power. If I turned and ran away from him now, all he’d need to do is stand and wait, as I’d be bound to go round in circles and meet him again.
“First stop,” he said, coming to a halt in a little square. He pointed up at a plaque. “Casanova was born right here,” he said, “the son of two actors, but he was brought up by his grandmother, perhaps the only woman he ever really loved.”
Ellie looked up at him. “I wondered about that, too, reading his life. Always after the next conquest, never satisfied—like he was searching for something he never really found.”
“You’ve got him, Ellie. I think he was a lonely man at times, even though there were plenty of women who wanted to love him. He ruined their lives in some ways—who’d be satisfied with another man after he’d had them, the greatest lover of them all? Yet he got close to none of those women. He thought he was in love for a while, and then his head would be turned by someone new.”
by Book Review: The Village Shop For Lonely Hearts by Alison Sherlock
After losing her job in New York, Amber Green isn’t looking forward to visiting her godmother in the sleepy village of Cranbridge. With its empty lanes and rundown shops, it’s hardly a place to mend her lonely heart.
But when Amber discovers that Cranbridge Stores, owned by her godmother Cathy and son Josh, is under threat of financial ruin, she realises that her skills as a window dresser might just be able to help save the struggling shop.
When disaster strikes, Amber and Josh must unite to save both the shop and the village from flooding.
Can Cranbridge Stores become the heart of the village once more?
And as the village begins to come back to life, perhaps Amber will discover a reason to stay…
I have become a fan of Alison Sherlock’s novels and was so pleased to be able to take part in the blog tour.
Amber has just returned from New York, having lost her job. Her plan is to join her parents in New Zealand but first, she visits her godmother, Cathy who runs the village shop in Cranbridge.
When Amber arrives, she finds Cathy on the eve of finding out results following cancer treatment and the shop is on the verge of bankruptcy.
Then there is Cathy’s son, Josh. When Cathy leaves him and Amber in charge of the shop for a while, feelings emerge. Does Amber’s future belong in New Zealand or Cranbridge?
Cranbridge sounds so idyllic. I got a bit of a Beaulieu feel from it actually. I know I want to go visit, especially if it’s Christmas.
Amber is a fantastic character. She’s warm and relatable. At the beginning of the book, she’s at rock bottom and she doesn’t know what to do next. It was great to see how she and her feeling of self worth changed through the book.
Josh, Oh Josh. If there are any Gilmore Girls fans out there, he gave me a bit of a Luke vibe. He’s a little grumpy but beneath that, he’s a loveable, dependable, honourable man.
by Book Extract: Homewood Bound by Richard Smith
A big hello to Richard Smith. He is here with the blog tour for his latest novel, Homewood Bound.
Here’s a little about the book…
Homeward Bound features 79-year-old grandfather George, who didn’t quite make it as a rock star in the ‘60s. He’s expected to be in retirement but in truth he’s not ready to close the lid on his dreams and will do anything for a last chance. When he finds himself on a tour of retirement homes instead of a cream tea at the seaside his family has promised, it seems his story might prematurely be over.
He finds the answer by inviting Tara, his 18-year-old granddaughter, to share his house, along with his memories and vast collection of records. She is an aspiring musician as well, although her idea of music is not George’s. What unfolds are clashes and unlikely parallels between the generations – neither knows nor cares how to use a dishwasher – as they both chase their ambitions.
Richard has shared an extract today so grab that comfy chair, a drink and enjoy.
*****beginning of extract*****
Chapter 1 – opening
There were two things George Turnbull treasured above all else. One, his piano – upright, of no particular repute, King’s Head not Royal Albert Hall, but much played and well loved.
“This is our luxury accommodation. The Churchill Suite.”
“Lovely and roomy.” Toby nodded, turning to his wife for a affirmation.
“We allow our residents to keep their most precious mementos,” the sales pitch continued. “Picture of a loved one to put on the dressing table, favourite clock. So long as it’s not too large.”
The second was his record collection, several thousand vinyl LPs, EPs and singles, and almost as many CDs.
“We find these suites are very popular, especially with our well-to-do guests.”
“Ah. That’s something that might be a problem. You see, George isn’t really that ‘well-to-do’. That’s true, isn’t it, darling?” Toby paused, turning to Bridget. She frowned, narrowed her eyes and glowered. “My wife and I will be selling his house in London. Even so, I’m afraid we may not be quite in the right – how should I say – ballpark? For the Churchill Suite.”
“No matter.” Mrs Williams carefully straightened a badge on her lapel. Worn like an ornamental brooch, it sported a designer logo, her name and the words, ‘Proprietor, Lastdays Rest Home’. “Perhaps Mr Turnbull would like to see one of our Mornington Rooms.” She barely glanced at George as she spoke. “Follow me. They’re just down the corridor. An acceptably a affordable option, we like to think.”
There was a third thing, George now realised. To piano and records, add his cuttings. He’d kept every review, from his first performance pictured in the Swindon Advertiser, complete with ration-book out t and National Service cropped hair, to his last at the Pavilion Ballroom, Strathpeffer, where his hair had been shorn not by clippers but by time. Except they weren’t really cuttings. He’d kept the whole newspaper. The front-page banner headlines weren’t international issues, more ‘Council Debates Road Closure’, ‘Stray Dog Causes Travel Chaos’, ‘Garden Blaze Destroys Shed’. And they weren’t so much reviews as gig listings and ‘Also Playing’. Yet he had them all. This monument to the past was in the same room as his music, a wall of yellowing paper, stacked in date order. ‘A fire waiting to happen,’ Toby called them.
Bridget put her hand gently on George’s arm. “Let’s move on to the Mornington Rooms. Don’t you think so, Dad?”
“If you want to, Bridget.”
by Book Club
