I was honoured to be asked to take part in the blog tour for Emma Hetherington’s new release, Secrets In The Snow.
Here’s the blurb:
Perfect for fans of Karen Swan and Lulu Taylor!
As the winter snow falls on the small Irish village of Ballybray, Roisin O’Connor and her young son, Ben, are saying goodbye to their beloved neighbour Mabel Murphy. Mabel lived a bold and colourful life, but the arrival of her brooding nephew, ‘blow-in’ Aidan Murphy, just makes life more complicated for Roisin.
However, in one final act of love, a message arrives from Mabel that changes everything. And as winter turns to spring and the cold snow melts, the secrets both Roisin and Aidan are hiding must be revealed at last…
Roisin has had a rough ride in life, bouncing from foster carer to foster carer, before entering into an abusive marriage.
Through a welcome tragedy, she finds herself widowed and wants to make a fresh start for her and her son, Ben.
A pin in a map lands her in a tiny village called Ballybray in Ireland, and it couldn't be more different from her upbringing in the city of Dublin.
Once there, she finds that she has an interfering neighbour, Mabel Murphy, an elderly widow, with a New York twang, who refuses to believe that this young woman would prefer to be alone.
What develops between them, is a friendship stronger than most, more akin to family.
Life is idyllic, almost, until Mabel gets ill and passes away.
But this meddling neighbour isn't finished with her work to make sure Roisin lives her life to the fullest.
Somehow, from beyond the grave, she's arranged for some messages, specifically for Roisin, and Aidan, Mabel's nephew, who has been in the US for the last fourteen years, and only comes back to Ballybray to attend the funeral and sell off her property.
What follows, in the story, is the impact of the messages that Mabel sends, seasonally, for these two lost souls, over the course of a year, and how the words of a soul long gone, can still have a positive effect on the lives of those left behind.
I truly enjoyed this book. Wonderful characters. Everyone needs a Mabel Murphy in their lives.
Many thanks to NetGalley and Harper Collins for an ARC, in exchange for an honest review.
Written by the amazing Emma Heatherington.
Emma Heatherington is a bestselling author from Donaghmore, County Tyrone. Her novels include the Amazon UK Top 10 bestseller and Amazon US hit, The Legacy of Lucy Harte, and A Part of Me and You, which reached the USA Kindle Top 100 and the UK Top 40. Her latest novel, A Miracle on Hope Street is a heartwarming Christmas themed story of love, kindness and friendship. As well as novels, Emma has written scripts for over 70 educational short films and plays and was ghostwriter for country legend Philomena Begley on her autobiography, My Life My Music My Memories (The O’Brien Press, 2017) and Nathan Carter’s life story, Born For The Road (Penguin Ireland) which was shortlisted for the An Póst Irish Book Awards 2018. She also regularly contributes to the Belfast Telegraph and Sunday Life newspapers and has appeared on chat shows on RTE, TV3 and UTV. Emma is a mum of five, aged from 23 to 4 years old and her partner is Irish artist and singer/songwriter Jim McKee.
I was really excited to be asked to review a secret release last month, and it wasan’t any old book, but a story by world famous comedienne, Dawn French!
How cool was that?
It was all a bit secretive, as it hadn’t been publicised that Dawn was releasing a new book, so I had to hold my review close to my chest… and, here it is, now the book, Because Of You, has been published.
But first, the blurb!
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock . . . midnight.
The old millennium turns into the new.
In the same hospital, two very different women give birth to two very similar daughters.
Hope leaves with a beautiful baby girl.
Anna leaves with empty arms.
Seventeen years later, the gods who keep watch over broken-hearted mothers wreak mighty revenge, and the truth starts rolling, terrible and deep, toward them all.
The power of mother-love will be tested to its limits.
Perhaps beyond . . .
Because Of You is Dawn French’s stunning new novel, told with her signature humour, warmth and so much love.
And my review:
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
I was extremely excited to be chosen to read an advanced copy of Dawn French’s new book, Because of You, having read all of her previous novels, and enjoyed them immensely. The story centres around two women, due to give birth on New Year’s Eve/Day, 2000. Anna, wife of wannabe politician Julian, and Hope, the girlfriend of gentle Isaac. Tragedy surrounds both women, yet out of the despair, one baby, Minnie, emerges.
It took me a little while to really get into the book, but within a few pages, I was truly immersed in the story. A story about mothers and daughters, and love that grows. How real relationships are formed. Matters of the heart. Dawn French has created beautiful, rounded, characters, that cause you to either to care deeply about them, or want to throttle them (Julian, anyone?) Every step of the way, I wondered when the truth would be exposed. I had an inkling, but I wasn’t sure. The book is written from the point of view of Hope, Anna and Minnie, in turn, with snippets of Julian and Isaac too, giving you a complete picture of the thoughts of everyone throughout a surreal situation. I don’t want to give too much away, but suffice to say, I had tears in my eyes by the end of the book. Absolutely wonderfully written.
Available at all good retailers.
Dawn French has been making people laugh for thirty years. On purpose.
As a writer, comedian and actor, she has appeared in some of the UK’s most long running, cherished and celebrated shows, including French and Saunders, The Comic Strip Presents …, Murder Most Horrid, The Vicar of Dibley, Jam and Jerusalem, Lark Rise to Candleford, and more recently, Roger and Val Have Just Got In.
The weeks are just blurring into one another, aren’t they? I feel like I’m living a Groundhog day life, right now, but hopefully it will change soon enough!
I haav my chai, what about you?
If we were having chai I’d start with school life, as always. It’s never the same, at school. Each week brings it’s own brand of happiness, craziness and complexity. So this week, I’ve dealt with a biting, classroom destroying, heaad-banging lunatic (and his mother), vomit, prepping for new children, approaching parents about possible needs their children may have, creating an Action Plan for my subject role, meeting with my new mentor regarding leadership… Yes, it’s definitely not been a quiet one… but I’m still standing. We all are!
If we were having chai I’d then swiftly move on to house updates. WE HAVE NEW CARPET! (In the bedrooms, at least. The stairs and hallway will be done tomorrow, but that is a simple job.) Friday night was a craazy rush for me, with a trip to Bluewater (more on that, later), then coming back and stripping all the bedrooms of anything, other than the beds, so the old carpet could be lifted, and the new laid. I ached like a good un, but the kids did help, so that was a blessing. Then on Saturday, they were dropped to the grandparents, while Hubby Dearest and I waited for the fitters to arrive. There were meant to be two, but only one man came. He was an older gentleman, with a slight limp. We felt awful that he was doing this alone, to be honest, and offered to help with the moving around of furniture, but, do you know what? He was amazing! Three bedrooms done and dusted in two hours, with no help from us, moving furniture, including a really heavy bed frame! Good old Denver (that was his name), highly recommended! I have hoovered around seventy six billion times, and that carpet fluff keeps giving, but it’s done! We then moved all the furniture back where it needed to go, and I had to construct two new clothes rails as two of the more flimsy ones we were using, collapsed. (Sometimes, I wish we hadn’t demolished the wardrobes, but then, we would have had to, with the carpets, as they were too heavy to move, and not nice enouch to keep). I think the kids are happy. The carpet is so soft and bouncy, with the new underlay, too! I actually typed half this post laying on the ground, with Lil Man looking at me like I was mad. And the paint is pretty much done. Just touch ups. However, the Summerhouse sprung a leak, so there is that to fix if possible.
If we were having chai I’d say that we have been online viewing prospective houses, and there are already arguments between the household members, where one is only concerned about the garden, one wants a big bedroom and ensuite, one wants space for a chill room or a gym, and me? Well, as long as I have a study/work/writing room, I’d be happy… Our dream forever home is out there, I’m sure… We’ll find it soon enough.
If we were having chai I’d let you know about good old Bluewater. So, Lil Princess and her social life meant that she had another trip to meet friends planned for the Friday, after school. Lil Man decided he wanted to tag along and go wandering around with me, while she socialised. (Damn. That meant less time to sit and chill in Costa with my book!) She met her friend, and we walzed from sports shop to sports shop, as he wanted trainers. It wasn’t as hard as I thought, but rather expensive, but then, he’d saved up, so kudos to him. Then we managed a half an hour sit down in Costa, before I ended up in a stationery shop. But I just looked, promise! I have decided I can’t buy more anything, until we find our dream home, because I don’t have anywhere to put anything! But I did find something that made me giggle. Nowadays, manufacturers make machines for everything, and I was surprised to see this, a Samosa maker! What a way to cheat! You could never make proper Indian samosas in that, but these would create the little cocktail filo pastry ones. Not a real samosa!
If we were having chai I’d end with telling you that after carpet-gate, we chilled… I stayed in bed until 9.30am on Sunday, which is unheard of, then after grocery shopping (we need food, too!), I relaxed for the rest of the day. My body is still aching from moving furniture and stuff around over Friday and Saturday – Bubble bath time! Sonu Singh is just wondering around not quite sure what is going on, most of the time. Will he be stuck in one room, today, with myriad strangers wandering in and out? Or does he get to lord it around the whole of the kingdom? Thankfully, after Tuesday, the house will be his again, but until then, here’s a pic of him using me as his pillow!
This week, the carpet WILL BE DONE, fully! I hope to ring up some estate agents to get valuations, before we get this baby on the market. Then it will be mortgage time, to see what our budget really will be, along with beginning to do some viewings of properties. It’s really happening, y’all! I have a course to do this week, which will result in me being a qualified DSL (Designated Safeguarding Lead) for if there are any worries or concerns about a child… serious stuff. I also have a meeting with a parent (that bitey, head banging one…) Wish us luck!
And while you’re here, did you sign up for my mailing list? I am in the middle of writing an exclusive Chickpea Curry Lit story for my subscribers, and there will be news, tips and even recipes! You know you want to join… go on! Click the pic below to sign up!
“It’s better to die on your feet than to live on your knees.”
Emiliano Zapata
Thank you, Spidey, for showcasing one of my favourite quotes, ever.
I think that truly defines how I live my life, to be honest.
Though, there are times I may be on my feet a bit too much.
Knees aren’t a bad place to be, once in a while. (Especially if, like mine, they arae beginning to hurt again…)
Life has thrown so much craziness my way, the last few weeks, on top of the Pandemic pandemonium.
Work on the house, going back to school full time, worry about my parents who are in Birmingham where there is increased lockdown…
It’s all stuff that is out of my hands.
I’ve just got to deal with it.
And I have been.
But, my body has been hinting that it’s time to rest on my knees for a while.
Just a little rest, it’s not a bad thing. A few days of not rushing around like a loon won’t mean I am missing out.
Work won’t be going anywhere, but at last, the house is more or less done. Before the joy of valuations starts, I’m putting me first.
If I want a bath every night, a soak for an hour, I’m going to do that. I need to go rid my head of the grey that has taken over. I want to read without falling asleep from exhaustion. I want to get back to writing again… my WIP is waiting for me.
And I will do it.
So… tell me, how do you rest?
Have a peaceful Sunday Peeps. And enjoy your week!
Today I am thrilled to be able to host my dear blogging pal, His Geoffleship, aka Geoff Le Pard, on my blog, as he introduces his amazing new poetry collection, The Sincerest Form of Poetry.
And here’s the Blurb:
All of life in one easy couplet
To write poetry I need inspiration. Often that comes from my appreciation of the craftsmanship of other, better poets, whose skills I aspire to emulate. For this anthology, I have chosen two such sources: in part one, the search for Britain’s favourite poem led to the publication of the top 100 and I have used a number of these to craft my own take on those beautiful and inspirational works; in part two, my love of the sonnet form, fostered by reading Shakespeare’s gems has provided a selection covering many topics and themes. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed creating them.
If you know of our dear Geoffles, already, you’ll be aware of his writing talent, having released several novels, and short story anthologies, already, and who can forget his short stories and flash fiction pieces on his blog? (I wonder where his mind wanders, sometimes…) Check it all out on his blog, here!
Here’s us, sharing a special moment at the ABBA’s in 2017!
And again in 2019, at the ABBA’s!
Anywho… I asked Geoff to choose a particularly poignant poem from his new anthology, along with a reason for why he selected that particular verse, and this is what he came up with.
Over to you, His Geoffleship!
The Hand That Guides Your consoling hand sits light on my sleeve, A confident tap to release me on four; We set sail, in step, gliding with ease Past blind spots and missteps strewn on the floor. I fumble to catch that elusive toe-tap Which, if I could, would allow me my head. You remind me, by way of a quick finger snap, Of the dangers where taking that path might lead. I continually try to do it my way, To give into weakness of flesh and of soul But you hold my love tight; I cannot stray And we remain linked; two parts of one whole. May it always be thus as we gib and we tack; Both looking forward, your hand at my back.
I wanted to write a poem to my fabulous wife, a thank you really for being in the right placeat the right time for us to meet and to give in (a bit too easily maybe) to my blandishments. And because it was to be a love poem, it just had to be a sonnet. But then again the sonnet is just 14 lines; how do you capture that essence? When I wrote this we had been married 30 years and together for nearer 40. We had many pleasures we enjoyed together (stop sniggering at the back, this is serious) and many which were our own. One that was ours and not really anyone else’s was our love of dancing. Weekly we’d take a lesson and gradually improve our waltz or cha cha cha, laughing, learning, loving. It’s both an intimate thing and a selfish skill that must be employed to gain the most enjoyment. And maybe more than any other it is a team exercise. Of course, we work as a team, in harness emotionally and familially, but this is a physical team at work and possibly unique for all that in our relationship. So using our dancing experiences as the kernel for the metaphor of what makes us work as a team in all situations became the base for my poem. When we dance there are two very specific parts of the process where each of us brings an extra skill to the party. I’ve never found it difficult to learn the steps, to understand the dynamics of the turns, the angles we need to achieve, the moments of longeur and the times when speed is essential; she understands the music, the rhythms and pacing, knowing if my inclination to focus on the mechanics is taking us away from the music. And as a metaphor for our marriage that’s true too. I’m the obviously dynamic one, the one up front loud and excited. And she allows me my head until… until my enthusiasm and need to get things done, to get on with things begins to challenge the overall plan. Ironically, because in a car we undertake the opposite roles often, but in life I tend to drive and she to map read. And together we make the steps, keep on the beat and move forward, two gliding as one.
Perhaps the one essential I didn’t capture here is our shared laughter; the critical piece, the glue, the cheese in the sarnie, the oil in the dressing. But then again, I rather hope some of the imagery will make the reader smile and that will do nicely.
Thank you, so much for that heartfelt piece, His Geoffleship!
Now, I was lucky enough to read the book in advance, and let me tell you, it’s a great little read! I giggled at his ‘amendments’ to ssome classics, in Part One, and ‘Please, Mrs Patterson’, really resonated with me, as a teacher! ‘We’re All Santas Now’, had me laughing out loud, garnering some funny looks from my son! Part two is filled with sonnets that are truly Geoffled, as in, his own, not some tweaked versions, ranging from covering some serious issues, to humorous, as well as cricket, for which I know His Geoffleship has a special love! A wonderful read which can be devoured in one sitting, or savoured at pleasure, picking up the book to read snippets of rhyme and cadence at your will. Loved it!
More about Geoff LePard
Geoff Le Pard started writing to entertain in 2006. He hasn’t left his keyboard since. When he’s not churning out novels he writes some maudlin self-indulgent poetry, short fiction and blogs at geofflepard.com. He walks the dog for mutual inspiration and most of his best ideas come out of these strolls. He also cooks with passion if not precision.
My Father and Other Liars is a thriller set in the near future and takes its heroes, Maurice and Lori-Ann on a helter-skelter chase across continents.
Dead Flies and Sherry Trifle is a coming of age story. Set in 1976 the hero Harry Spittle is home from university for the holidays. He has three goals: to keep away from his family, earn money and hopefully have sex. Inevitably his summer turns out to be very different to that anticipated.
In this, the second book in the Harry Spittle Sagas, it’s 1981 and Harry is training to be a solicitor. His private life is a bit of a mess and he’s far from convinced the law is for him. Then an old acquaintance from his hotel days appears demanding Harry write his will. When he dies somewhat mysteriously a few days later and leaves Harry in charge of sorting out his affairs, Harry soon realises this will be no ordinary piece of work. After all, his now deceased client inherited a criminal empire and several people are very interested in what is to become of it.
The third instalment of the Harry Spittle Sagas moves on the 1987. Harry is now a senior lawyer with a well-regarded City of London firm, aspiring to a partnership. However, one evening Harry finds the head of the Private Client department dead over his desk, in a very compromising situation. The senior partner offers to sort things out, to avoid Harry embarrassment but soon matters take a sinister turn and Harry is fighting for his career, his freedom and eventually his life as he wrestles with dilemma on dilemma. Will Harry save the day? Will he save himself?
Life in a Grain of Sand is a 30 story anthology covering many genres: fantasy, romance, humour, thriller, espionage, conspiracy theories, MG and indeed something for everyone. All the stories were written during Nano 2015.
Salisbury Square is a dark thriller set in present day London where a homeless woman and a Polish man, escaping the police at home, form an unlikely alliance to save themselves.
Buster & Moo is about about two couples and the dog whose ownership passes from one to the other. When the couples meet, via the dog, the previously hidden cracks in their relationships surface and events begin to spiral out of control. If the relationships are to survive there is room for only one hero but who will that be?
Apprenticed To My Mother describes the period after my father died when I thought I was to play the role of dutiful son, while Mum wanted a new, improved version of her husband – a sort of Desmond 2.0. We both had a lot to learn in those five years, with a lot of laughs and a few tears as we went.
Life in a Conversation is an anthology of short and super short fiction that explores connections through humour, speech and everything besides. If you enjoy the funny, the weird and the heart-rending then you’ll be sure to find something here.
When Martin suggests to Pete and Chris that they spend a week walking, the Cotswolds Way, ostensibly it’s to help Chris overcome the loss of his wife, Diane. Each of them, though, has their own agenda and, as the week progresses, cracks in their friendship widen with unseen and horrifying consequences.
Famous poets reimagined, sonnets of all kinds, this poerty selection has something for all tastes, from the funny, to the poignant to the thought-provoking and always written with love and passion.
But I Smile Anyway... 