#BlogTour #Review : Snowed in at the Little Duck Pond Cafe by Rosie Green @Rosie_Green1988 @rararesources

Blurb:  The biggest snowfall in years has blanketed Sunnybrook, cutting the village off from the outside world. For Fen, who finds herself snowed in at The Little Duck Pond Cafe, it’s little more than a minor inconvenience. Her love life is finally running smoothly; it looks as if she’s found the perfect man for her.

But then a shocking secret threatens to destroy Fen’s new-found happiness.

Will being snowed in be the final straw? Or will Fen find a way through the snowdrifts to the perfect love?

 Purchase Link – https://amzn.to/2Cg99ki 

My Review: I’ve read and enjoyed all of the books set at the Little Duck Pond Cafe so I couldn’t not read this one. The story picks up where it left off at the end of the previous book and continues Fen’s story. There is enough background information dotted throughout that means it could be read as a standalone but I think you’d get a lot more out of it reading the series in order. 

This is a lovely, cosy read. I went shopping while reading and nearly bought mince pies which is saying something as I usually hold off till December. It’s obviously really appropriate at this time of year to read a book set at Christmas/New Year but as with all of the books in the series it is a warm, cosy read that had me reaching for tissues at one point, and clutching hot chocolate for most of my reading time. 

If you want a new romantic read that is full of warmth, strong female characters and a lovely friendly village then I would highly recommend this series of books. 
About the author:

Rosie Green has been scribbling stories ever since she was little. Back then they were rip-roaring adventure tales with a young heroine in perilous danger of falling off a cliff or being tied up by ‘the baddies’. Thankfully, Rosie has moved on somewhat, and now much prefers to write romantic comedies that melt your heart and make you smile, with really not much perilous danger involved at all, unless you count the heroine losing her heart in love.

​Rosie’s brand new series of novellas is centred on life in a village café. The first two stories in the series are: Spring at The Little Duck Pond Cafe and Summer at The Little Duck Pond Café.

Twitter – https://twitter.com/Rosie_Green1988 












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#BlogTour #Extract : Where the Truth Lies by M J Lee. @canelo_co @ElliePilcher95 @WriterMJLee

Today I’m taking part in the blog tour for Where the Truth Lies and I have a gripping extract for you. I love M J Lee’s books and would normally review but sadly other committments have meant I don’t have time at the moment, though it is on my to-read list. Many thanks to Ellie Pilcher at Canelo for inviting me to take part in the tour. 

Blurb:   The case was closed. Until people started dying… 

The unputdownable first DI Ridpath crime thriller from bestseller MJ Lee.

A killer in total control. A detective on the edge. A mystery that HAS to be solved.

DI Thomas Ridpath was on the up in the Manchester CID: a promising young detective whose first case involved capturing a notorious serial killer. But ten years later he’s recovering from a serious illness and on the brink of being forced out of the police. Then people start dying: tortured, murdered, in an uncanny echo of Ridpath’s first case.

As the investigation intensifies, old bodies go missing, records can’t be found and the murder count grows. Caught in a turf war between the police and the coroner’s office, digging up skeletons some would rather forget, Ridpath is caught in a race against time: a race to save his career, his marriage… And lives.

When a detective goes missing everything is on the line. Can Ridpath close the case and save his colleague?

Extract: The cemetery was on a spur overlooking the flood plain of the river Mersey. Morning mist hovered over the water, sneaking like a thief into every tiny nook and cranny. The sun was just trying to peer over the horizon, its weak rays lightening the dark skies. The bare whispers of a north-east wind hustled over the ground, creeping between the gravestones and rustling the branches of a row of lime trees.

Ridpath pulled his thick coat over the woollen fleece. The teal-blue scarf around his neck was nearly choking him, but he had promised Polly he’d wear it.

The doctors had warned him to be wary of catching cold or flu. If he did, he would be whisked off back into the isolation unit of Christie’s. Bloody doctors and their bloody fears. There was no way they were getting him inside the hospital again. Not in a million years.

He would have loved to smoke a fag right now. The tarry aroma of tobacco in the early morning air like the first cough of spring, but he had promised Polly he would cut down. Not eliminate, just cut down. 

God, she was good at getting him to make promises. Almost as good as he was at breaking them.

The undertaker, Albert Ronson, had already erected blue plastic sheets on three sides of the grave, leaving the side hidden from the main road open. 

The message on the headstone was simple:

Alice Seagram, 1990–2008.

Taken from us far too early.

In front of the headstone, a bunch of flowers bought from Tesco wilted in the early morning gloom. 

‘I didn’t inter this client.’ The undertaker spoke out of the side of his mouth, not looking at Ridpath, whispering so as not to wake the dead. 

The undertaker was almost a cliché of his profession: tall, dressed in black and with a sallow complexion which hadn’t seen sunlight since the Dark Ages. ‘Only one customer in the grave, so it should be a simple exhumation.’

The voice was monotone, without any sort of inflexion or stress. Funereal was the adjective to describe him, Ridpath decided.

‘The last time, I had three caskets on top and two cremation urns. Delicate job…delicate job.’ He blew on the ends of his sallow fingers in a futile attempt to warm them up in the cold morning air. Ridpath kept his hands in his pockets.

The gravediggers had already started to remove the grass that grew over the plot, putting the sods on top of a tarpaulin on one side. ‘Won’t use a mechanical digger on this customer.’ Albert looked over his shoulder. ‘Treat her with respect just in case the family comes down to watch.’

‘Do families normally come?’

‘Some do. Some don’t,’ said Albert enigmatically.

A car, its headlights cutting through the early morning mist, was parking at the side of the road.

‘It’s him, checking up as usual.’

A large, rotund man approached them wearing one of those dark-blue duvet jackets that made him look like a miniature version of the Michelin Man. ‘Morning, Albert,’ he nodded at the undertaker. ‘You must be the new coroner’s officer. I’m Health and Safety.’

He held out his hand. ‘Morning. Inspector Tom Ridpath, on temporary secondment to the coroner from Manchester Police.’

‘Lovely morning for it.’ He stared at the gravediggers and tut-tutted. ‘Albert, you know they should be wearing their masks before they start digging. See to it, will you?’

Albert glanced across at him mournfully, sneering with all the panache of a Professor Snape, before moving off to talk to the transgressing gravediggers.

‘Always tries to cut corners, does Albert.’ The man stomped his feet on the cold ground. ‘Been working long with the coroner?’

‘First day.’

The man made a moue, his tiny eyes being swallowed up by the large red cheeks. He leant in closer. ‘Got a reputation, has Mrs Challinor.’ He leant in even closer until Ridpath could smell his breath. ‘Man-eater,’ he whispered. ‘But you didn’t hear it from me.’

The spades of the gravediggers cut through the damp earth with a rhythmic ease, breath puffing out of their mouths like aged steam trains as they carefully laid each clod of turf on the tarpaulin, under the watchful eyes of the undertaker and Mr Health and Safety.

‘And watch out for Carol Oates. Ambitious, that one is. Not happy just being area coroner, is she?’

‘I don’t know, is she?’

The man stopped smiling for a moment, wondering whether he was being made fun of. Ridpath kept his face still and unmoving.

‘She is. Wants to be head coroner, that one does, but Mrs Challinor is sitting in the hot seat.’

‘You seem to know a lot about what’s going on.’

‘Health and Safety, mate. I keeps my ears and eyes and nose close to the ground.’

An image of a jowly bloodhound with the man’s face leapt into Ridpath’s head as another car arrived at the side of the road.

‘Looks like the family has finally come.’

But only one man exited the car. Ridpath recognized the thin, tall, slightly bowed shape.

‘Morning, Charlie, what are you doing here?’

Charlie Whitworth stroked his moustache. ‘Wouldn’t miss your first day on the job, would I, Ridpath? And anyway, this is about that bastard Dalbey. Me and John Gorman were the ones who put him away.’

Mr Health and Safety leant into their conversation with his hand held out. ‘Rob Campbell, Health and Safety.’

Charlie Whitworth ignored the hand and continued speaking to Ridpath. ‘Alice Seagram was his fourth victim. You caught him with the fifth, remember?’

How could he forget? The day he had chased after James Dalbey, catching him in the lock-up next to the allotments. The police arriving. Looking up and seeing the girl – Freda Scott was her name. Naked and shackled to a blood-spattered wall at the rear of the building. Covering her with his jacket as she shivered in his arms. Her words’: ‘Save me…save me…save me,’ repeated again and again and again.

‘No…no…no…Albert, they need to be wearing their masks. They can’t take them off to breathe.’ Mr Health and Safety matched off to the graveside.

‘Dalbey’s trying to wriggle out of it. Prove his conviction was dodgy to get a pardon.’

‘He was a vicious bastard, Charlie.’

‘Aye, but we nicked him.’

The gravediggers had put their masks back on and returned to digging.

‘How did yesterday go?’

‘Mrs Challinor doesn’t have much time for Jim Howells.’

‘Who would? But let us know what’s going on there, Ridpath. Wouldn’t like it to get away from us.’

Ridpath turned to face his boss for the first time. ‘Second time you’ve asked me. I’m no nark, Charlie.’

‘Never said you were, but—’

The sound of the tip of a spade hitting wood.

‘Looks like we’ve hit the mother lode,’ Campbell shouted back towards them. ‘And she’s in good condition, too, from the sound of it.’

The gravediggers quickly removed the remaining earth covering the casket and jumped out of the grave. The undertaker took his own time putting on a white Tyvek suit, finally pulling on a pair of bright-pink plastic gloves given to him by Mr Health and Safety. He lowered himself into the grave, carefully placing his boots on either side of the coffin.

‘Apparently I have to observe this part,’ Ridpath said, moving to the graveside.

The undertaker was bent double, carefully scraping the last remnants of soil off the tarnished brass nameplate on the lid of the coffin. ‘I can read the name. It’s Alice Seagram.’

Ridpath remembered the words from the file he was supposed to say at this time. ‘Please remove the coffin, Mr Ronson.’ He then stepped back to allow the gravediggers to move the trestle, with its lifting ropes, over the grave.

The undertaker removed himself from the grave with an athleticism which surprised Ridpath.

‘Fancy breakfast? There’s a good greasy spoon next to the flower shop,’ said Charlie Whitworth, now standing beside him.

‘I’ll hang on here till the undertaker’s put the coffin in his van, and the thing is on its way to the pathologist.’

‘Following the rules to the letter, are we?’

Ridpath ignored him. The gravediggers, with the help of Ronson, were manoeuvring the ropes under the coffin so it could be lifted out of the grave. One of the gravediggers tugged on a rope attached to a pulley and the click of a ratchet echoed through the air. 

The sun was fully up now, the mist being burned off by its rays. Off to the left, a blackbird was proclaiming his dominance of this graveyard from the top of an ancient yew tree.

Mr Health and Safety was encouraging the gravedigger. ‘Up a bit, slowly, that’s it, she’s coming up.’

The gravedigger was ignoring him, just going about his work with a singular concentration.

The ropes were taut and the dark, earth-stained wood of the coffin slowly rose into view. Ridpath expected a strong smell, perhaps of a rotting corpse, but there was nothing. Just the scent of the earth: a rich, black, fertile aroma.

They held the coffin above the grave as one of Ronson’s assistants brought out the gurney from the back of the van. He locked the two sets of wheels and trundled it across the grass, positioning it next to the grave.

Mr Health and Safety’s voice rang out again, loud enough to wake the dead. ‘Swing it round, gentlemen. Watch the straps.’

The gravediggers, with Ronson on one side, ignored him again, carefully moving the coffin from above the grave to the gurney. As they did so, Health and Safety decided they weren’t moving quickly enough and pushed the side of the coffin with his gloved hand. The edge caught on the side of the gurney, before wobbling for a moment and then settling down.

‘That was close,’ he said, ‘nearly fell off the straps.’

As he finished speaking, one of the straps snapped and the end of the coffin slipped down, crashing to the soft earth. 

The two gravediggers and Ronson jumped backwards as the coffin landed on the ground with a loud thud. The lid popped open and slowly slid off to one side.

The undertaker recovered his composure quickly, leaning over to peer into the coffin. Then he stood upright and, in the loudest voice he had used in years, said, ‘Inspector, I think you should come and look at this.’
About the author:  M J Lee has spent most of his adult life writing in one form or another. As a university researcher in history, he wrote pages of notes on reams of obscure topics. As a social worker with Vietnamese refugees, he wrote memoranda. And, as the creative director of an advertising agency, he has written print and press ads, TV commercials, short films and innumerable backs of cornflake packets and hotel websites. 

He has spent 25 years of his life working outside the north of England, in London, Hong Kong, Taipei, Singapore, Bangkok and Shanghai, winning advertising awards from Cannes, One Show, D&AD, New York and the United Nations. 

While working in Shanghai, he loved walking through the old quarters of that amazing city, developing the idea behind a series of crime novels featuring Inspector Pyotr Danilov, set in the 1920s. 

When he’s not writing, he splits his time between the UK and Asia, taking pleasure in playing with his daughter, practising downhill ironing, single-handedly solving the problem of the French wine lake, and wishing he were George Clooney.






#Blog Tour #Review : Antiques and Alibis by Wendy H. Jones. @WendyHJones #LoveBooksGroupTours 

I am delighted today to be taking part in the blog tour for Antiques and Alibis. I first heard about this book earlier this year and it sounded right up my street so when the blog tour was mentioned I jumped at the chance. Many thanks to Kelly and to Wendy for giving me a copy of the book and a space on the tour. So, read on and find out what I thought about the book.

Blurb:  Cass Claymore, a red headed, motorbike riding, ex-ballerina inherits a Detective Agency, and accidentally employs an ex-con dwarf and an octogenarian. Hired by a client who should know better, Cass has no leads, no clue and a complete inability to solve a case. Still a girl needs to eat and her highbred client’s offering good money. Join her as, with bungling incompetence, she follows a trail littered with missing antique teddies, hapless crooks, a misplaced Lord of the Realm and dead bodies. 

Will Cass, and Scotland, survive?

Buy Link

https://amzn.to/2D3GT42


My Review:  As I’ve said I heard about this book earlier this year and then was reminded about the tour when at Bloody Scotland in September. I bumped into Wendy who said if I liked the Stephanie Plum novels then I would like this and she was spot on. I don’t read many Stephanie Plum novels now but am a huge fan of the early ones and this book definitely will be one that fans of that series will enjoy.

Cass Claymore is not your typical private investigator but that’s part of the appeal of the story. She’s inherited her private investigator business but has very little idea of how to actually investigate anything. She’s disorganised and gets her investigating tips from Sherlock Holmes and a variety of other, non-professional, sources. Add to this her unexpected and accidental hiring of two highly unsuitable employees and her dog which causes chaos wherever it goes and you have the recipe for an enjoyable madcap adventure in Dundee and the surrounding areas as Cass investigates a missing person and a missing teddy bear. 

Cass is a brilliant character, quirky and different but trying to make ends meet by running her business even though she doesn’t know how to run it. While suddenly inheriting a private investigator business is not something likely to happen to any of us, the way Cass investigates is probably how most people would investigate.  It’s hard to describe this novel without just saying, read it and find out for yourself. It’s a complete rollercoaster from start to finish. Cass is clearly out of her depth but despite that and her mistakes I found myself wanting her to succeed, mainly so I can read more books with her in them. 

Aside from Cass my favourite character has to be Quill. I suspect he might irritate me if he was real but as a fictional character he’s brilliant. I love his dress sense and the way he listens but doesn’t listen to instructions. He’s trying to improve his life and is quite endearing at times, a comment which he might be embarrased by, but it’s true. 

If you love Stephanie Plum or want a crime fiction read that is completely different then you should definitely give this book a try. It’s chaotic, funny and a bit bonkers and sometimes that’s exactly what you need in life.



About the author:  Award Winning Author Wendy H. Jones lives in Scotland, and her police procedural series featuring Detective Inspector Shona McKenzie, is set in the beautiful city of Dundee, Scotland. Wendy has led a varied and adventurous life. Her love for adventure led to her joining the Royal Navy to undertake nurse training. After six years in the Navy she joined the Army where she served as an Officer for a further 17 years. This took her all over the world including Europe, the Middle East and the Far East. Much of her spare time is now spent travelling around the UK, and lands much further afield. As well as nursing Wendy also worked for many years in Academia. This led to publication in academic textbooks and journals. Killer’s Countdown is her first novel and the first book in the Shona McKenzie Mystery series. Killer’s Crew won the Books Go Social Book of the Year 2107. There are now six books in this series with Killer’s Crypt being released in August, 2017. The Dagger’s Curse is the first book in The Fergus and Flora Mysteries for Young Adults. This book is currently shortlisted for the Woman Alive Magazine Readers Choice Award Book of the Year. She is also a highly successful marketer and she shares her methods in the book, Power Packed Book Marketing.


#BlogTour #Review : The Promise of Tomorrow by AnneMarie Brear. @annemariebrear  @rararesources 

I’m thrilled today to be taking part in this blog tour. Many thanks to the author and Rachel’s Random Resources for having me on the tour. I have a review today so read on and find out what I thought of this historical story. 

Blurb:  Charlotte Brookes flees her lecherous guardian, McBride, taking her younger sister with her. After a year on the road, they stumble into a Yorkshire village. There, they are taken in by the Wheelers, owners of the village shop. This new life is strange for Charlotte, but preferable to living with McBride or surviving on the roads. Harry Belmont is an important man in the village, but he’s missing something in his life. His budding friendship with Charlotte gives him hope she will feel more for him one day, and he will have the woman he needs.  

However, when McBride finds out where Charlotte lives, his threats begin, and Harry takes it upon himself to keep Charlotte safe. Only, World War I erupts and Harry enlists.  Left to face a world of new responsibilities, and Harry’s difficult sister, Charlotte must run the gauntlet of family disputes, McBride’s constant harassment and the possibility of the man she loves being killed.

Can Charlotte find the happiness that always seems under threat, and will Harry return home to her?

Purchase Links:

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07GHCXQ8Y/

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07GHCXQ8Y/


My Review: This is not the first book I’ve read by this author and it certainly won’t be the last. I could barely put this book down, I went to bed one night planning on reading a few pages and ended up reading for over an hour, most unlike me. The characters in this story are very realistically written and leap off the page. I visualise while I read and, for this book, didn’t have to even try to visualise anything, it all came into my head the minute I started reading which, for me, is always the sign of a good book. It’s also a beautifully descriptive story, the village and the mine came to life quite clearly for me.

I really enjoyed watching the character development in the story, particularly Charlotte, Harry and Petra. It was really nice to experience that with them and watch as they changed over the course of the years. The story moves forward in different amounts, at one point only by a month and at another point it is by quite a few months. These leaps in time are well managed though, the date is at the beginning of the chapter and so the flow of the story is not interrupted by this but rather skipped forward so we see snippets of how the war and other issues impact on the main characters. 

If you like historical fiction then this is one author I would definitely recommend trying. 




About the author:


Australian born AnneMarie Brear writes historical novels and modern romances and sometimes the odd short story, too. Her passions, apart from writing, are travelling, reading, researching historical eras and looking for inspiration for her next book.

Social Media Links – 

http://www.annemariebrear.com   http://annemariebrear.blogspot.co.uk   https://www.facebook.com/annemariebrear   

Twitter @annemariebrear



#BlogTour #Extract : Some Old Bloke by Robert Llewellyn. @bobbyllew @unbounders @annecater #RandomThingsTours

Today I am thrilled to bring you a different type of book from my usual. I’m taking part in the blog tour for Robert Llewellyn’s book, someone I know from many, many episodes of Scrapheap Challenge (I loved that programme!). From the book I have an extract, part of the first chapter, to give you a taster of what to expect in the rest of the book so read on and see what you think.

Blurb:  When writer, comedian and Red Dwarf actor Robert Llewellyn’s son scrawled a picture of him at Christmas and titled it ‘Some Old Bloke’, Robert was cast deep into thought about life and what it means to be a bloke and an old one at that.

In this lighthearted, revealing and occasionally philosophical autobiography, we take a meandering route through Robert’s life and career: from the sensitive young boy at odds with his ex-military father, through his stint as a hippy and his years of arrested development in the world of fringe comedy, all the way up to the full-body medicals and hard-earned insights of middle age.

Whether he is waxing lyrical about fresh laundry, making an impassioned case for the importance of alternative energy or recounting a detailed history of the dogs in his life, Robert presents a refreshingly open and un-cynical look at the world at large and, of course, the joys of being a bloke.

Extract:

The Plaque

Early one morning in May 2013 I received a text from the comedian Ross Noble.

Ross is a lovely fellow and he wanted me to be on his telly programme, although this flattering request was imbued with a microdot of low-status subtext.

This was very much a last-minute thing. He wanted me on  his show but not later in the year or three months ahead as might be expected with a traditional TV production.

No, he wanted me to be there that day.

The text from Ross had an air of panic about it: they couldn’t get any properly famous celebrity at such short notice, so they tried me.

I’m not suggesting that I’m under constant pressure to make public appearances, but I can, occasionally, be quite busy.

On the morning I got the text from Ross I was under enor- mous pressure to feed the chickens and put the rubbish out, so   I replied, ‘Yes.’

Then I looked in the bathroom mirror.

The slightly backlit reflection confirmed that I was (then) a fifty-seven-year-old bloke, and while that could be – and often is – a depressing realisation, on this particular morning I was gently elated at how lucky I’d been.

I’d been around the block a bit, but I’d never spent a night in a hospital, never had to wear a uniform or fight in a war.

I’d never been challenged to survive a post-apocalyptic Armageddon, zombie apocalypse or a tsunami; I hadn’t experi- enced starvation or been put in prison for my opinions; I hadn’t been oppressed or brutalised because of my gender or the  colour of my skin.

If, as the writer and doctor Abraham Verghese argues, ‘geog- raphy is destiny’, then I’ve been lucky from the get-go.

Of Indian heritage, Verghese was born in Ethiopia, had to flee the civil war when he was a kid, and went to America with his family. There he studied medicine, worked as a doctor in India, went back to America and became a writer.

His destiny was very much defined by geography; he is part of the massive diaspora of many people around the world.

I didn’t have any of that. I’m a white-skinned bloke born in a European country where my antecedents had been living for, who knows, possibly thousands of years.

However, the acknowledgement of coming from where I do, being my age and acknowledging my privilege is, I will argue, very important.

It’s a political stance and it seems quite rare among my peers. There are many men living in developed Western countries the same age as me who, it would seem, feel hard done by. They might express this disappointment through fake jocularity to disguise the fury and frustration they feel inside.

About the author:

Robert Llewellyn is an actor, novelist, screenwriter, comedian and TV presenter, best known for Red Dwarf and Scrapheap Challenge. He lives in Gloucestershire.

#BlogTour #Review : The Golden Orphans by Gary Raymond. @GaryRaymond_ @Martinsville @damppebbles 

Blurb:

Within the dark heart of an abandoned city, on an island once torn by betrayal and war, lies a terrible secret…

Francis Benthem is a successful artist; he’s created a new life on an island in the sun. He works all night, painting the dreams of his mysterious Russian benefactor, Illy Prostakov. He writes letters to old friends and students back in cold, far away London. But now Francis Benthem is found dead. The funeral is planned and his old friend from art school arrives to finish what Benthem had started. The painting of dreams on a faraway island. But you can also paint nightmares and Illy has secrets of his own that are not ready for the light. Of promises made and broken, betrayal and murder…

The Golden Orphans offers a new twist on the literary thriller.

Purchase Links:

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Golden-Orphans-Gary-Raymond-ebook/dp/B07BSP5QNM/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Golden-Orphans-Gary-Raymond-ebook/dp/B07BSP5QNM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1538303201&sr=8-1&keywords=the+golden+orphans&dpID=4198UgMGu5L&preST=_SY445_QL70_&dpSrc=srch

Waterstones: https://www.waterstones.com/book/the-golden-orphans/gary-raymond/9781912109135

Book Depository: https://www.bookdepository.com/Golden-Orphans-Gary-Raymond/9781912109135?ref=grid-view&qid=1538303257382&sr=1-1

NOOK: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-golden-orphans-gary-raymond/1128322874?ean=9781912109272

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/the-golden-orphans

My Review:  I have to admit this is a book that perplexed me. The way it was written left me realising how little we really know about the people we meet in life. The world that exists in the book is probably very real but at the same time feels almost disconnected from the reality that most people know. As with everything it’s all about how you experience it and if the experiences in this book do not correspond with yours then it might not feel like a reality you recognise, it certainly didn’t for me and that was quite refreshing.

This is one of those stories that makes you think and stays with you for some time after you’ve read it. It’s been almost a week since I finished it and it’s still in my head, popping up at random times and making me think. The writing style was, for me, quite distinctive and fitted the story really well but also added to that layer of puzzlement that I felt almost all the way through. This story is definitely a twist on the usual crime fiction and worth reading if you’re looking for something different. 
About the author:

Gary Raymond is a novelist, critic, editor and broadcaster. He is the presenter of BBC Radio Wales’, The Review Show, and is one of the founding editors of Wales Arts Review. He is the author of two novels, The Golden Orphans (Parthian, 2018) and For Those Who Come After (Parthian, 2015). He is a widely published critic and cultural commentator.

Social Media:

Twitter: https://twitter.com/GaryRaymond_

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/forthosewhocomeafter1/

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Gary-Raymond/e/B07FTSDY12/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1







#BlogTour #Review : Night Shift by Robin Triggs. @FlameTreePress @RobinTriggs @annecater #RandomThingsTours

I am thrilled to be taking part in another blog tour for Flame Tree Press. Although these are new publishers they are fast becoming a favourite of mine with their excellent and unusual taste in books and this one is no exception. Many thanks to them and to RandomThingsTours for having me on this tour. 

Blurb:  Antarctica. A mining base at the edge of the world.   

Anders Nordvelt, last-minute replacement as head of security, has no time to integrate himself into the crew before an act of sabotage threatens the project. He must untangle a complex web of relationships from his position as prime suspect.  

Then a body is found in the ice. Systems fail as the long night falls. Now Anders must do more than find a murderer: he must find a way to survive.  

Will anyone endure the night shift, or will ice and frozen corpses be all that remains?

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Night-Shift-Fiction-Without-Frontiers/dp/1787580377/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1538750232&sr=1-1&keywords=night+shift+robin+triggs

My Review: Anyone who reads my reviews and/or knows me personally will know I’m a huge fan of crime fiction so when the email about this book arrived I was intrigued. What crime fan could possibly resist a book with limited suspects, suspicion, tension and impending peril for the characters? Hence why I agree to take part in the tour.  

This is definitely a crime story, there is sabotage and murder, but added to that is a layer of sci-fi because this is not just a base on Antarctica, this is a base on Antarctica in the future at some unknown point when the world has changed. There are familiar things mentioned, such as television and the UN, alcohol and books but apart from that the world is different and the reader only finds that out through little snippets of information throughout the story.  Those snippets add to the story and the understanding of the characters and of why these people are on Antarctica in the first place.

Anders Nordvelt arrives as a replacement for the previous security officer and he comes on the last transport to the base for six months. After he arrives the sabotage and murder happens so obviously he is viewed as a suspect, after all no one on the base truly knows him. The story is told from Anders perspective, we see what he is thinking, feeling and doing. It’s very cleverly written because having only his perspective makes it almost like the reader becomes him. We see nothing of what the other characters do when Anders is asleep or in a different room from them, all we see is his view and what happens directly to him and everything else is an unknown. I know, this is exactly how we experience our own lives but I think that the isolation and suspicion on the base and the crispness of the writing make it really clear that Anders (and the reader) have absolutely no idea what is going on outside of his experience. 

I really enjoyed this book. The basic premise is not new, there are lots of other stories, book and film, with a cast of characters cut off from the outside world and a murder among them. However, what makes this story work and feel fresh is the writing, the very narrow perspective of only Anders view of everything and the ramping up of the tension and peril as the story develops. 

As I’ve said I really enjoyed this book and I look forward to discovering more by this author and Flame Tree Press themselves. 
About the author:

Writer of speculative fiction and extremely poor cricketer.
 #Proofreaderand #SfEP member. 

Debut novel NIGHT SHIFT out Nov 2018. 

He/Him/The Monstrosity

http://www.robintriggs.wordpress.com/

Twitter: @RobinTriggs

ABOUT THE PUBLISHER: FLAME TREE PRESS is the new fiction imprint of Flame Tree Publishing. Launching in 2018 the list brings together brilliant new authors and the more established; the award winners, and exciting, original voices.