Book Extract: Lady Ludmilla’s Accidental Letter by Sofi Laporte
I am so pleased to be welcoming Sofi Laporte and the blog tour for her novel, Lady Ludmilla’s Accidental Letter.
A resolute spinster. An irresistible rake. One accidental letter… Can love triumph over this hopeless muddle in the middle of the London season?
Lady Ludmilla is mortified. Though the spinster extraordinaire knows it is foolish, she has fallen head-over-heels for the amiable man with whom she’s been secretly corresponding, and that cannot be. When she sets out to uncover his identity, her world shatters. For her best friend Addy turns out to be none other but London’s worst rogue—the man who has ruined her engagement to someone else ten years earlier.
Lord St.Addington is perturbed. The wicked Viscount is developing a marked tendre for a spinster, and that cannot be. She might be mistaking him for someone he is not, or, what is worse, know precisely who he is. As London’s worst hellrake, he has a role to maintain, a charade to play. A depraved heart like his surely can’t be falling in love…least of all with a plain, outspoken spinster.
Determined to discover the truth behind the man she loves, Lu does what she does best: she sits down and writes a letter…
If you crave a humorous romp with witty banter and surprising twists, you will love Sofi Laporte’s charming masquerade.
Sofi has shared an extract today. We hope you enjoy.
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Excerpt from Lady Ludmilla’s Accidental Letter by Sofi Laporte:
When Lady Ludmilla sets out to uncover the identity of the man she loves, her world shatters. For Addy turns out to be none other but London’s worst rakehell, who has already crossed her path and ruined her a long time ago. When she encounters him again, she cannot help but challenge him:
“I dare you.” Lu thought she must be stark raving mad, even as she heard the words herself. “I dare you to kiss the homeliest Windmere woman with your eyes open.” She tilted up her chin defiantly.
His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips. “Dare accepted.”
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Book Extract: Mrs Morphett’s Macaroons by Patsy Trench
I am pleased to be welcoming Patsy Trench to Novel Kicks today along with the blog tour for her novel, Mrs Morphett’s Macaroons.
London, 1905. A show. A stuttering romance. Two squabbling actresses.
Is it Shakespeare? Is it Vaudeville?
Not quite. It is Mrs Morphett’s Macaroons, a satirical play about suffragettes which its creators – friends and would-be lovers Robbie Robinson and Violet Graham – are preparing to mount in London’s West End.
It is the play rival actresses Merry and Gaye would kill to be in, if only they hadn’t insulted the producer all those years ago.
For Robbie and Violet however the road to West End glory is not smooth. There are backers to be appeased, actors to be tamed and a theatre to be found; and in the midst of it all a budding romance that risks being undermined by professional differences.
Never mix business with pleasure?
Maybe, maybe not.
Patsy has shared an extract with us today so enjoy!
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Extract from Chapter 24 of ‘Mrs Morphett’s Macaroons’- Mrs Santenoy goes to gaol.
It is 1905. Mrs Santenoy is an elderly suffragist in the early days of the suffrage movement, before Mrs Pankhurst appeared on the scene and when the demand for votes for women were largely peaceful. The protest Mrs Santenoy took part in was perfectly orderly until the police moved in on horseback to disperse it, and a handful of the lady protesters were rounded up and sent to prison for two weeks.
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When Mrs Santenoy arrived at Holloway Prison she was in a state of high excitement. For a woman from what society termed ‘a privileged background’, married for nearly forty years, the experience of going to prison was without question the most extraordinary event in the sixty-eight years of her life. Even as she was lined up against a wall with her fellow protestors and given a rudimentary medical examination, Mrs Santenoy still felt the strangest thrill of adventure. She saw herself as an actress in a play, going through the rudiments of being sent to prison without any idea of what lay ahead of her.
On instruction from the prison wardress she was made to undress – ‘Completely?’ – ‘Completely’ – and given some old, stained underclothing, brown woollen stockings and a green serge dress that really was stamped all over with broad arrows. She hunted for but did not find a matching pair of shoes to wear from a huge basket, after which, laden with sheets, a towel, a mug of water and a thick slice of rough bread she was shown to her cell. Even then it all felt quite unreal and startlingly melodramatic. She sank exhausted onto the hard wooden bed and closed her eyes and, surprisingly, slept.
The following day, having requested some reading matter she was given the Bible and an atlas of the world. She embarked on the first with interest and glanced through the second. During the obligatory hour’s exercise in the prison yard she kept her head held high and, as instructed, avoided contact with her fellow prisoners. She managed to keep this up for two whole days without too much pain.
It was around the third day that the excitement faded. It was not until then that she became fully aware of a kind of sour, stale odour seeping through the walls from centuries of poor ventilation and prevailing damp. Her cell was both stuffy and cold. She sensed the presence of something that moved and scuffled. She dare not leave what food she was given on the floor lest her fear of mice and rats became real.
In the exercise yard she observed her fellow detainees with dulled curiosity. Apart from the suffragettes, whom she recognised only vaguely by sight, the women kept their eyes on the ground, and she was struck by the thought that many if not most of them had possibly spent more of their lives in prison than out; that a good half of them were no more than girls, and that there was a kind of resigned doggedness to the way they walked, shoulders slumped, feet dragging, as if tramping mindlessly in a circle was all they knew how to do or would ever do in the future. There were very few outbreaks, or protests; they didn’t seem to have the energy.
by Book Extract: Brown Eyes by Frances Ive
I am pleased to be welcoming Frances Ive to Novel Kicks today with the blog tour for her book, Brown Eyes.
A watchful eye as a marriage falls apart. The phone call, the rows, and the split are all observed by the family Labrador. He knows the habits and senses the moods of his beloved family members. Seeing them unhappy and hurting each other is unbearable. Where did his perfect life go?
Her marriage to Phil in crisis, two children at the challenging teenage stage, and a close friend in peril, Meriel’s world is falling apart. She finds solace in the arms of another man, but is this the answer for her? It is her stubbornness that threatens the family’s future together, until a major loss has a life-changing effect on her. A sliver of hope returns.
Like a fly on the wall, Benji the dog sees it all.
Narrated by both the dog and Meriel, Brown Eyes is a novella (a short read) written by the author of Finding Jo and Give and Take with a Capital G & T.
Frances has shared an extract from Brown Eyes today. We hope you enjoy!
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Can a marriage be saved?
In many countries including the UK the divorce rate is very high – between one in two or three marriages ends in a split. Sometimes relationships break down because of extreme behaviour, but others are often just lacking communication and appreciation. The route from problems like infidelity to splitting up is sometimes very fast.
For those couples who seek couples counselling it can sometimes be avoided if both partners want it to work. Meriel and Phil were jogging along in their relationship when one of them strayed off the path. Almost immediately they were splitting up and the children and the family Labrador were distraught. Could therapy save their marriage?
Extract from the point of view of Jane, the counsellor. Starting with Phil speaking.
‘I didn’t think it happened quickly. I had liked Meriel for a long time, but she always seemed to be with a boyfriend. I used to wonder how we could get together, and so I just took a risk and rang her. And thank goodness, it worked.’
by Book Extract: The Helsingør Sewing Club by Ella Gyland
Ella Gyland joins me today with the blog tour for her novel, The Helsingør Sewing Club.
Inspired by the incredible true story of how the people of Denmark saved their Jewish neighbours during WW2
Helsingør, Denmark, 1943
In the midst of the German occupation during World War Two, Inger Bredahl joins the underground resistance and risks her life to save members of Denmark’s Jewish community and help them escape to Sweden.
Copenhagen, 2018
Inger’s granddaughter, Cecilie Lund, is mourning her death when a mysterious discovery while cleaning out Inger’s flat leads past and present to intersect. As long-held secrets finally see the light of day, Cecilie learns the story of her grandmother’s courage and bravery, and of the power of friendship, love, and standing for what’s right…even when you have everything to lose.
An inspiring tale of the resilience of the human spirit and the power of community.
Ella has shared an extract from The Helsingør Sewing Club with us today. Enjoy!
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The main character’s cousin Gudrun has just returned home from having dinner with her fiancé, Niels the fisherman, and his family, where the topic of conversation was whether to smuggle black market goods back from Sweden or not, with Niels strongly against it and his father in favour of it. This scene is from Gudrun’s point of view.
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When she returned home, her parents, Inger, and Jens were listening to Radio London in the parlour. She poured herself a cup of coffee from the blue enamel pot on the stove in the kitchen, and joined her family, squeezing onto the settee next to her brother.
Huddled around the radio, they listened to the news that the Russian army had recaptured a port city on the Black Sea from the Germans, and that the recently overthrown Italian dictator, Mussolini, had been restored to power.
Gudrun’s mind wasn’t really on the news. Instead she focused on the coffee substitute she was drinking. She’d almost, but not quite, got used to the taste of it – not like Inger who hated it – but knew Niels’s father had been right when he’d insisted people would pay for anything if they wanted it enough, and had the money.
At my wedding lunch we’re going to have proper coffee, she thought. Another reason for her and Niels to wait.
The calm, quiet mood in her parents’ parlour was interrupted by a sudden rap on the window at the front of the house. Jens quickly switched off the radio, and her mother draped an embroidered tablecloth over it. Listening to the radio wasn’t forbidden, but the Germans took a dim view of broadcasts from the BBC, and it was better to be safe than sorry in case they confiscated it.
Her father turned off the lights and opened the door, with Gudrun and his wife almost right behind him.
by Book Extract: Storytellers by Bjørn Larssen
I am very pleased to be welcoming Bjørn Larssen and the blog tour for his novel, Storytellers.
Would you murder your brothers to keep them from telling the truth about themselves?
On a long, cold Icelandic night in March 1920, Gunnar, a hermit blacksmith, finds himself with an unwanted lodger – Sigurd, an injured stranger who offers a story from the past. But some stories, even those of an old man who can barely walk, are too dangerous to hear. They alter the listeners’ lives forever… by ending them.
Others are keen on changing Gunnar’s life as well. Depending on who gets to tell his story, it might lead towards an unwanted marriage, an intervention, rejoining the Church, letting the elf drive him insane, or succumbing to the demons in his mind. Will he manage to write his own last chapter?
Bjørn Larssen’s award-winning, Amazon #1 best selling novel is an otherworldly, emotive Icelandic saga – a story of love and loneliness, relief and suffering, hatred… and hope.
Bjørn has shared an extract today. Grab that hot drink, a comfortable chair and enjoy.
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Like most writers, I have certain subjects that are dear to my heart. Three of them are neurodivergence, mental illness (not the same thing), and addiction.
My protagonist, Gunnar, is on the autism spectrum and has a generalised anxiety disorder accompanied by depression, self-medicated with alcohol. He is also living in the year 1920, before the word “depression” came into use at all. He’s an uneducated blacksmith in a society where showing feelings – revealing that you had them – outside your diaries or poems you wrote was impossible. It wasn’t seen as cynical to say there was no time for grief or melancholy. It was simply the truth. There was too much work to be done.
It’s not just the external world that doesn’t understand Gunnar’s different mind. He has no words to express how he feels. All he knows is that he “shouldn’t” be like this, that “normal people” aren’t. During Icelandic prohibition, the only way to acquire alcohol was to visit a doctor and get it “prescribed” – Gunnar’s whisky is, ostentatiously, medication for his non-existent lung problems. A bottle of whisky a week isn’t enough anymore, though, so he makes moonshine… which is, of course, illegal, which makes his anxiety worse. There’s only one way he knows to feel better – he carries a flask wherever he goes.
There was a time in my life when I went through a long period of depression. Everything was grey. I didn’t even remember how to laugh. I was ashamed of admitting it. I “knew” that depression was a made-up thing that the educated members of the middle-class came up with to justify their laziness. Gunnar doesn’t have the words to express that, but if he could, he’d be thinking the same. There was one medication that calmed me down, even sent me into euphoria. It came in bottles.
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by Book Club
