#BlogTour #Extract : Inborn by Thomas Enger. @OrendaBooks @EngerThomas

I am thrilled to be on the blog tour for Inborn today. I love the sound of this book and it’s on my to-read list but for my stop on this tour I have an extract for you and if this short piece in anything to go by this book is amazing! Read on and enjoy, I dare you…….


Inborn blog poster 2019


Blurb:   When the high school in the small Norwegian village of Fredheim becomes a
murder scene, the finger is soon pointed at seventeen-year-old Even. As the
investigation closes in, social media is ablaze with accusations, rumours and even threats, and Even finds himself the subject of an online trial as well as being in the dock … for murder?

Even pores over his memories of the months leading up to the crime, and it becomes clear that more than one villager was acting suspiciously … and secrets are simmering beneath the calm surface of this close-knit community.  As events from the past play tag with the present, he’s forced to question everything he thought he knew. Was the death of his father in a car crash a decade earlier really accidental? Has his relationship stirred up something that someone is prepared to kill to protect?

It seems that there may be no one that Even can trust.

But can we trust him?

A taut, moving and chilling thriller, Inborn examines the very nature of evil, and
asks the questions: How well do we really know our families? How well do we know ourselves?


Inborn final front (1)




Before he made the mistake of opening the door, Johannes Eklund was thinking about the show. He thought about the cheers and the admiring looks the girls had given him, the beers he was going to drink once he caught up with everyone at the opening-night party. The sex, God willing, he was going to get.

In those minutes that passed before he stepped through the doorway
and stared in disbelief at what he saw in front of him, Johannes’ mind had been filled with dreams. High on the praise that the night’s performance had received, his eyes had been firmly fixed on the future, on private jets and sold-out concerts, on a way of life he had yearned for every single day since his father introduced him to Stone Temple Pilots
and the glamour of rock ‘n’ roll some four years ago.

Right before his throat made that anxious little noise, Johannes wasn’t giving the slightest thought to the fact that he had school tomorrow, nor that he was due to hand in an essay on social economics later this week. School was no longer going to be important to him. Tonight’s show had only made that even more evident.

But then his presence was noticed, and he stood there watching for a few seconds, trying to comprehend what was going on in front of him. Then the stench of urine, sweat and metal rose to his nostrils and made him forget all about the distant future and the very recent past.  He couldn’t even process what he was seeing. All he could think was
that he wasn’t supposed to be there. That he had to get out.


His shoes, still wet from the rain, slipped on the floor as Johannes started to run, but he managed to stay on his feet and pick up some speed. The sound of boots, hard against the floor behind him, made him force his legs to move even faster. Heart racing and lungs screaming, he reached the end of the corridor. As he was about to open the door that led to the staircase, he turned and caught a glimpse of the person speeding towards him, eyes so dark it made Johannes tremble and whimper.

He grabbed at the door and ran through. He was about to descend the staircase, when he felt a powerful hand on his shoulder. He turned and raised his hands as if to protect himself, whispering a plea that died on his lips as intense pain jolted through his jaw, paralysing the rest of the muscles in his face. His feet lost touch with the ground, and as the back of his skull made contact with the top of the staircase, it felt and sounded as if something in his head had smashed into a thousand pieces.

He didn’t pass out, but part of him wished that he had. He tried to
get up, but something connected with his upper body and pushed him
forcefully further down the stairs. Unable to break his fall, he landed
on his back and shoulder. Then he toppled down the stairs and came
to rest at the bottom.

He couldn’t move.

Couldn’t think, at least not at first. He wanted to scream for help, and he managed to cover his face with his arm, but it was pulled sharply aside. He squinted up at the person above him. Only then did Johannes fully understand how much trouble he was in.

His thoughts turned towards his family and his friends, to the songs he had yet not written, songs that would never be loved, and the tears began to roll down his cheeks. As he felt blow after blow raining down on his face, feeling the numbness travel from his head to the rest of his body, Johannes’ mind drifted away from what was happening to him.  He thought about all the fun he had planned. The dreams that would never come true. And as the white lights above him started to fade, he thought of the taste of a girl’s lips. The feel of her body. And when Johannes Eklund could no longer feel a single thing, he could not help but wonder what on earth he’d walked in on, and why the hell he had
to die.


About the author:



Thomas Enger is a former journalist. He made his debut with the crime novel Burned in 2010, which became an international sensation before publication, and marked the first in the bestselling Henning Juul series. Rights to the series have been sold to 28 countries to date. In 2013 Enger published his first book for young adults, a dark fantasy thriller called The Evil Legacy, for which he won the U-prize (best book Young Adult). Killer Instinct, upon which Inborn is based, and another Young Adult suspense novel, was published in Norway in 2017 and won the same prestigious prize. Most recently, Thomas has co-written a thriller with Jørn Lier Horst. Enger also composes music, and he lives in Oslo.













#BlogTour #Review : Mummy’s Favourite by Sarah Flint @Aria_Fiction


Buried in a woodland grave are a mother and her child.

One is alive. One is dead.

It is one of the most harrowing cases to hit D.C. Charlie Stafford’s department in years. Then more pairs of mothers and children go missing – and it’s Charlie’s job to find them.

Soon, Charlie is hunting down a brutal serial killer with a twisted mind. But as she closes in on the culprit, she realises she’s in more danger than she thought…

He’s watching. He’s waiting. Who’s next?

My Review: I love police procedurals and crime thrillers but don’t tend to read many with a main character who is a female and I don’t think that is going to be changing anytime soon. Overall I enjoyed this book but I found it hard to warm to Charlie, she just didn’t come across as realistic to me.

There’s a very diverse cast of characters in the story but the focus was on Charlie and her boss Hunter. They appeared to be the only one’s really investigating the abductions and disappearances of mothers and children. The story really came to life when it was dealing with the scenes involving the murderer and those being kidnapped, the detail and description in those scenes made up for the slower parts of the story.

The last part of the book was, in my opinion, by far the best part, the tension was there, there were red herrings and genuine fear and danger for many including Charlie. I didn’t suspect the ending or guess the killer prior to the reveal. The resolution of the case was cleverly done and the endings were tied up neatly so I wasn’t left wondering what happened to certain people.

For a debut novel it’s a good one, though I hope the characters gain more depth and realism in future books. Despite my comments above I did find it an easy read, I read it in 2 days which is the sign of a good book for me. The story was easy to follow, the number of characters, both police and civilian, never got confusing which was a huge plus given how much happened in the book.

Definitely worth a go if you like police procedurals and serial killers.

About the author:

With a Metropolitan Police career spanning 35 years Sarah has spent her adulthood surrounded by victims, criminals and police officers. She continues to work and lives in London with her partner and has three older daughters.

#BlogTour #Review : Love Heart Lane by Christie Barlow. @rararesources


Welcome to Love Heart Lane…

When Flick Simons returns to the small village of Heartcross she only expected to stay for a few days. The white-washed cottages of Love Heart Lane might be her home, but the place holds too many painful memories, and of one man in particular – Fergus Campbell.

When a winter storm sweeps in, the only bridge connecting the village to the main land is swept away! As the villagers pull together, Flick finds herself welcomed back by the friends she once left behind. And as the snow begins to melt, maybe there is a chance that Fergus’s heart will thaw too…

Purchase Links

UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/Love-Heart-Lane-Christie-Barlow-ebook/dp/B07DX1YXKM/



My Review : I’ve read at least one book by this author before so when the email for this blog tour popped up in my inbox I was excited, it sounded fresh and fun and just what I was needing.

Overall I enjoyed the story, the book is set in Scotland and living there myself I can certainly appreciate the wild weather in the book as it’s a fair representation of how our weather can be at times. There were a lot of characters in the book and they were well developed, for me they each had clear personalities, which isn’t always the case when there are this number of characters. I have to admit though, that I didn’t entirely warm to Felicity. I liked her but there were things that she said and did that I found quite immature and inconsiderate. Some people will no doubt argue that I’m being too hard on her but that’s how I felt although I did feel she matured somewhat during the course of the book.

The village has to deal with a lot in the course of a few weeks, a timescale that I felt was a bit short, but they rallied together and there was a real sense of community there, something that sadly is missing from a lot of places these days. It was lovely to see people being concerned about others welfare and helping out because it was the right thing to do.

This is one of those books that is perfect for a horrible weather day, one where you are all cosy with your choice of hot drink, I would recommend hot chocolate for this though. You can be sheltered from the weather outside and enjoy the book for what it is, a cosy read that is ideal winter reading.

About the author:

Christie Barlow is the author of A Year in the Life of a Playground Mother, The Misadventures of a Playground Mother, Kitty’s Countryside Dream, Lizzie’s Christmas Escape, Evie’s Year of Taking Chances, The Cosy Canal Boat Dream, A Home at Honeysuckle Farm and Love Heart Lane. Her writing career came as somewhat a surprise when she decided to write a book to teach her children a valuable life lesson and show them that they are capable of achieving their dreams. The book she wrote to prove a point is now a #1 bestseller in the UK, USA & Australia.

Christie is an ambassador for @ZuriProject raising money/awareness and engaging with impoverished people in Uganda through organisations to improve their well-being as well as Literary Editor for http://www.mamalifemagazine.co.uk bringing you all the latest news and reviews from the book world.

website www.christiebarlow.com

Twitter @ChristieJBarlow

Facebook page Christie Barlow author

#BlogTour #Extract : Deep Dirty Truth by Steph Broadribb @OrendaBooks @CrimeThrillGirl #DeepDirtyTruth

Today I’m thrilled to be taking part in the blog tour for Deep Dirty Truth, the third book in the Lori Anderson series. I’ve got an extract to share today so read on and enjoy!


deep dirty truth blog tour poster


A price on her head, and just 48 hours to expose the truth, and save her family…

Single-mother bounty hunter Lori Anderson has finally got her family back together, but her new-found happiness is shattered when she’s snatched by the Miami Mob, who they want her dead. But rather than a bullet, they offer her a job: find the Mob’s ‘numbers man’ – Carlton North – who’s in protective custody after being forced to turn federal witness against them. If Lori succeeds, they’ll wipe the slate clean and the price on her head – and those of her family – will be removed. If she fails, they die.

With only 48 hours before North is due to appear in court, Lori sets across Florida, racing against the clock to find him, and save her family…


Deep Dirty Truth AW.indd




We take a right turn off the highway. The wheels judder across the uneven track. The muffler rattles louder. I wince as my ribs bash against the van floor. The men up front are talking in low voices. I figure we’ve reached our destination.

Minutes later we brake to a halt. Doors open. Heat floods the vehicle. There’s shouting, new voices, then I feel hands grip my ankles and I’m yanked across the floor of the van and dumped onto the dirt outside.

They cut the hogtie but keep my wrists and ankles bound. As they haul me to my feet I feel sensation start to return to my limbs. Pins and needles stab at my muscles, waking the nerves that went numb hours ago. My mouth’s as parched as a storm drain in the dry season. I could really use a drink.

Doesn’t happen. My captors keep me gagged and hooded. Powerless. Disoriented. That tells me that they’re still being careful, not taking chances. The hood blinds me to my surroundings, and if I can’t see where I am, I can’t figure out the best escape route.

‘Barn two,’ a man says. His accent has a hint of New York about it. I search my memory, but I come up empty. ‘Get yourselves to the house when it’s done.’

I inhale sharply. When it’s done – what does that mean? The hands grasping my arms lift me off my feet and drag me across the dirt. I want to fight back, but that’s not the smart play here. I have to conserve my energy, pick my moment real careful. So I go limp, make them work harder at moving me. Tell myself to bide my time and hope to hell I have time to bide.

The guy on my right mutters under his breath about me being heavier than I look, and the one on my left grunts in agreement. Even through the hood I can smell his cheap cologne; it’s vinegary and applied overzealously. The scent of a low-rank foot soldier aspiring towards a style they know nothing about.

They continue dragging me across the dirt. I hear the distant clank of machinery. The sun’s high and hot. This morning, in my hurry to get Dakota to class, I forgot to put on sun- screen, and now the rays burn my skin. The air is still, no hint of a breeze. I figure it must be near on lunchtime, and I wonder if JT is worried yet.

‘Here?’ the cologne-wearer says. ‘Yeah.’ I smell them before I hear them. Way stronger than the cologne, and a whole lot nastier. Then I hear the stampede of cloven feet across baked earth, and the grunts and snuffles getting louder.

Pigs. I tense. Dig my heels into the dirt and swallow hard. If they toss me into the pigpen I’m a goner for sure. Hooded, with my arms and legs bound, I’ll stand no kind of chance against a herd of hungry swine, and, from the noise they’re making, they sure sound hungry.

The guy to my right laughs and jabs me in the ribs with his elbow. ‘You can smell ’em then, our little pets?’

I try to get my heart rate under control and think logically. It makes no sense to snatch me and drive all those hours just to feed me to these beasts. If they wanted to get me dead right off the bat then a bullet in the head would’ve done the job real nice. They’re messing with me, but I don’t think they’re going to kill me, not at this moment anyways. So I force my body to relax, release my heels from the dirt and wait to see what happens.

We keep going, past the pigs and a few hundred yards further. Moments later, even through the material of the hood, I can tell from the change in light that we’ve passed from sunshine to shade. The stench of the pigs is replaced with sweet meadow hay. I figure we’re inside barn two.

Seventeen steps later the men spin me around and push me back- wards against a pillar. The wood is rough and splinters rub raw against my skin. Cologne guy holds me upright, as close to the pillar as he can make me, while the other one ties me. They use rope this time. I feel him loop it tight, around my neck, my waist and my legs. My wrists and ankles are still bound with the tape. They leave the hood on.

The one with the growly voice slaps me on the shoulder. ‘See y’all later, blondie.’

‘If you’re lucky,’ cologne guy adds. I say nothing; the tape over my mouth is keeping me silent. I hear their footsteps retreat, and the bang of a door slamming shut. Then I’m alone.

It doesn’t take long for the discomfort to set in. My muscles ache right from the get-go and before long they’re burning from the forced immobility. My head throbs like a bitch. My mouth’s dry and I feel nauseous – a sure sign of dehydration.

They’ve tied me real snug. I feel along the rope where it’s closest to my hands, but there are no knots for me to try to loosen, and the tape around my wrists is too high for me to get a finger through. I bend my knees and try to slide down the pillar, but I’m stuck; the noose around my throat won’t shift.

I’m all out of options. All I can do is wait. Time passes. The fire in my muscles intensifies. The temperature rises and I sweat rivers, my clothes turning damp against my skin. I need the bathroom bad.

No one comes. I withdraw inwards, using memories to distance myself from the pain. I think of how my morning began, and it seems like a world, a lifetime, away: waking snuggled against JT with the light streaming in through the window; his lopsided smile as I kiss him awake; the feel of him inside me as we make love in the shower – getting clean and being dirty all at once; then later JT, Dakota and me having breakfast – bagels, juice and coffee – JT and Dakota chattering about Tropi-cana Field, me smiling at the easy way they banter with each other. The concentration on JT’s face as he tries to braid Dakota’s hair for school; the way she thanks him even though his best effort is a clumsy, half- assed job. Me laughing and telling him practice makes perfect. Him looking at me all serious with those old blues of his and telling me he’ll keep on practising; and how in that moment I knew he was talking about more than just the braids.

In the couple of months we’ve been playing house we’ve never made each other any promises. I’ve said before, a promise is just a disappointment bought on credit, but that don’t mean I’m not curious, maybe even a touch hopeful, to see how things play out. I want to give us a chance. After everything we’ve been through, we owe ourselves that.

I clench my fingers together. Grit my teeth. So, whatever else happens, there’s one thing I’m sure about. I refuse to die here.




About the author:  

steph broadribb


Steph Broadribb was born in Birmingham and grew up in Buckinghamshire. Most
of her working life has been spent between the UK and USA. As her alter ego – Crime Thriller Girl – she indulges her love of all things crime fiction by blogging at crimethrillergirl.com, where she interviews authors and reviews the latest releases. She is also a member of the crime-themed girl band The Splice Girls.

Steph is an alumni of the MA in Creative Writing (Crime Fiction) at City University
London, and she trained as a bounty hunter in California, which inspired her Lori
Anderson thrillers. She lives in Buckinghamshire surrounded by horses, cows and
chickens. Her debut thriller, Deep Down Dead, was shortlisted for the Dead Good Reader Awards in two categories, and hit number one on the UK and AU kindle charts. My Little Eye, her first novel under her pseudonym Stephanie Marland was published by Trapeze Books in April 2018.







#BlogTour #Extract : Hard Setdown by T.Q. Chant #TQChant #LoveBooksGroupTours

Today I’m sharing with you all an extract from this amazing sounding book. Huge thanks to LoveBooksGroupTours for having me on this tour. This book is a mixture of sci-fi and psychological thriller so if that’s your thing then read on and find out more.




Sam Cane – ex-con artist (sort of), ex-soldier (definitely), and woman on the run.

She’s looking to escape a life of petty crime on Earth that’s got her in too deep with the wrong people. Taking a job with one of the corporations contracted to open up and exploit new worlds in the growing Commonwealth, she’s assigned to a young colony right on the edge of human space. It looks like the perfect escape, until she arrives on IGC-187X and things start to go downhill. Fast.

Arriving at the colony site, she finds it mysteriously deserted, its communication systems sabotaged and her ride rapidly heading out of the system. Failing to repair the communications system in time, she realises she’s stuck on the apparently deserted planet unless she can get a deep space message out. Exploring the colony site further, she realises two things – that something terrible has happened to the colonists, and that she’s not alone. She contacts survivors from the colony, who tell her they were forced to relocate due to raider activity, but their story doesn’t quite add up. Betrayed by them, she connects with the only sane person left – Adissa, the daughter of the colonial administrator, who has been living underground since her father had gone mad and led the colonists to a mysterious settlement elsewhere on the planet.

Suddenly, getting a message out has taken on a new urgency. Playing a deadly game of cat and mouth with the colonists, Sam and Adissa work together to try to get an old buried launch array on-line. The full horror of the situation starts to impact on Sam as she realises just how far the colonists have fallen and that something far worse is lurking hidden under the deserts of the arid world.

Out on the fringe, she’ll find out that what you’re running from isn’t always the thing that will kill you.


hard setdown cover



“Rule number six, I think,” Sam said to herself, standing in front of the homemade shack and psyching herself to go in. “If you don’t know it and you need to, find out about it. Otherwise it could kill you.”

Lifting a couple of bits of kit from the pack, she pushed into the shack and forced herself to stand and look down on the corpse in the middle of the room.

She knew what that odd smell was now, the after-reek of death, the slight sickliness of rotten flesh. It was now just an unpleasant oily aftertaste on the air that suggested the body had been here a while.

She keyed a command into the pad to bring up data on forensic examination of a body, decay rates, other information that hadn’t been useful to her until this moment. She just regretted not having any forensic procedure software that could have done the whole examination for her – preferably while she sat outside having a beer. “No reason I’d ever think I’d need it though.”

 While the pad started throwing open work cells at convenient points in the air, she went about setting up the holopixer on its pole.

“Start recording. Security Specialist Cane Kokhani, ICG one-eight-seven, main colony site. It’s zero nine hundred local time, standard calendar date is third day fifth month one-fifty AY. Initial investigation of crime scene located approximately fifty metres from main colony site in a locally constructed building. May be some significance in the choice of venue. Victim is an unknown…female. Yes. Female.” She swallowed. She’d been taught basic police procedure in her month-long induction course, but nothing to prepare her for this. Established wisdom went that a good security chief with a population around a thousand to look after would probably know everyone well enough to spot a murderer without needing to go full Sherlock on it.

She fought to stay professional, stay clinical. She knew she had to face what was here or it would just lurk out here waiting for her. She had to start working out what had happened.

She waited until the pixer had finished its initial capture, a line of light sweeping across the space to capture everything. Pulling on gloves, she gingerly pulled away the tarp that covered some of the body ordered another pixer scan. She reached out to beckon a holographic cell to her, expanded it to read the data. “Hmm. Estimated time since death, based on humidity and average temperature, is three weeks.”

Looking back, her eyes widened. Without the ragged cloth covering, she could see the level of devastation inflicted on the colonist. “Hang on, too many legs involved here.”

She choked back a sob as that implication sank in. “Correction to my earlier statements. Two unidentified victims. One female, I’m guessing adult. One male, probably adolescent. Early teens. Bodies are severely decomposed.” Mercifully, she added to herself. “Both appear to have been stripped of clothing and partially dismembered.” Disturbed by her removing their last modesty, the bodies shifted slightly, air-cured skin and sinew settling slightly. The woman’s head rolled free. “Decapitated. Look like clean cuts.”

She got a close-up of some of the wounds, set a search running. “This wasn’t the work of animals. How could it be? The bodies were secured, definitely some sort of tool used. I’m seeing…crap… I’m seeing symbols cut – branded? – into what’s left of the skin. Are those…? Not sure, going to have to do a datastack search.”

She rocked back on her haunches, wiped her hand across her face without thinking, gagged as she tasted the slime that had come off on her gloves.

“Pausing the examination,” she gasped, staggering outside. She was technically on duty, but with no sign of a relief shift or a supervisor she didn’t mind cracking open one of her precious beers. At least it cleaned her mouth.




About the author:  Tim Chant grew up (mostly), went to school in East Anglia and university in Scotland. He took his History degree and did the only thing he could with it – joined the civil service. When not shackled to his desk he writes science fiction, alternative historical fiction, historical fiction and any other fiction that takes his fancy. When not doing that, he’s an inveterate roleplayer and wargamer (and getting back into historical fencing). He lives in Edinburgh with his partner and their two rabbits.








#BlogTour #Review : The Story Keeper by Anna Mazzola. @Anna_Mazz @TinderPress #RandomThingsTours

the story keeper blog tour poster

Blurb:  Audrey Hart is on the Isle of Skye to collect the folk and fairy tales of the people and communities around her. It is 1857 and the Highland Clearances have left devastation and poverty, and a community riven by fear. The crofters are suspicious and hostile to a stranger, claiming they no longer know their fireside stories.

Then Audrey discovers the body of a young girl washed up on the beach and the crofters reveal that it is only a matter of weeks since another girl disappeared. They believe the girls are the victims of the restless dead: spirits who take the form of birds.

Initially, Audrey is sure the girls are being abducted, but as events accumulate she begins to wonder if something else is at work. Something which may be linked to the death of her own mother, many years before.


the story keeper cover


My Review:  I wasn’t sure how to review this book. I read it in two days, mostly snippets of 10 minutes or less in lulls at work and despite the very brief periods in which I could read I was completely transported in that time, so much so that when my attention was called back to work I was momentarily confused and had to remind myself where I was.

This is not going to be a story which appeals to everyone, not everyone will want to read, or will gel with a story about fairies and other tales of folklore. I would never have really said it was my thing either but this book appealed to me and I’m glad I took a chance on it. This is such a mystical and almost ethereal story which is ground in so much truth and history. I’ve visited Skye a few times myself, so was familiar with most of the places mentioned in the book and the descriptions were spot on.

I liked Audrey as a person, trying to find herself and her own way in a world that didn’t want to accommodate her doing something different from the norm. There were some scenes that had me shaking my head at the responses she got from some people, and other scenes which had me wanting to go there and tell some of the other characters that they were talking nonsense, clearly impossible because apart from anything else I can’t time-travel (unfortunately!).  This was what made this book as good as it is, it weaves a spell around you and draws you in, like the fairies taking people away from the human world. Everything gets drawn up like a cyclone, all twisting and turning and who do you trust and what’s going to happen next and then, like the sun coming out after a storm, it starts to clear and everything starts to fall into place.

This is a new author for me but one that I will definitely read again and I will go so far as to say this is one of the few books that I am likely to re-read. I would honestly recommend this book if you’re tempted.  Be open minded and see where it takes you, stories are meant to transport us, after all.




About the author:

anna picture credit lou abercrombie.


Anna is a writer who, due to some fault of her parents, is drawn to peculiar and dark historical subjects. Her novels have been described as literary crime fiction or historical crime. Anna’s influences include Sarah Waters, Daphne Du Maurier, Shirley Jackson and Margaret Atwood.

Her debut novel, The Unseeing, is based on the life of a real woman called Sarah Gale who was convicted of aiding a murder in London in 1837. Her second novel, The Story Keeper, follows a folklorist’s assistant as she searches out dark fairytales and stolen girls on the Isle of Skye in 1857.

She studied English at Pembroke College, Oxford, before becoming a human rights and criminal justice solicitor. She now tries to combine law with writing and child wrangling, to varying degrees of success.

Anna loves to hear from readers, so do say hello on social media or via her website.



#BlogTour #GuestPost : The Convalescent Corpse by Nicola Slade. @nicolasladeuk @rararesources #Giveaway

Today I’m on the blog tour for The Convalescent Corpse, such an unusual title and a quirky sounding book too. I’m trying to focus more on my existing to-read pile and therefore reviewing less on blog tours at the moment, therefore for my spot on the tour I have a guest post for you, on the background to the book.  And if that wasn’t enough there’s a giveaway as well!

the convalescent corpse


A story of Family, Rationing and Inconvenient Corpses.

Life in 1918 has brought loss and grief and hardship to the three Fyttleton sisters. Helped only by their grandmother (a failed society belle and expert poacher) and hindered by a difficult suffragette mother, as well as an unruly chicken-stealing dog and a house full of paying-guests, they now have to deal with the worrying news that their late – and unlamented – father may not be dead after all.  And on top of that, there’s a body in the ha-ha.

‘I love it. A delightfully unusual mystery with wonderful characterisation and historical detail.’ – LESLEY COOKMAN BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE LIBBY SARJEANT MYSTERY SERIES

Purchase Links

https://amzn.to/2RrkDoz     https://amzn.to/2ODJeYR


the convalescent corpsecover3plusshout

Guest Post:

The Background to the book

Something that surprised me as the book began to develop was the age of my characters. They were so young! In previous books I’ve had a wide range of ages, including some feisty old ladies who have proved popular, and in my contemporary Harriet Quigley Mysteries I have a sleuth in her early sixties, as is her cousin and sidekick, the Rev Sam Hathaway. Discovering that I was dealing with young women still in their late teens came as a shock.

The eldest, Alix, is nineteen. She has a morning job as companion to a crochety old lady and in the afternoon, she volunteers at the nearby convalescent hospital for wounded officers. The middle sister, Christabel – the narrator is eighteen and spends her days typing her author mother’s books, writing her own ripping yarns for boys and young men, and helping her grandmother run the house. The youngest, Adelaide, is fifteen and still at school.

I didn’t set out to dream up characters that young, they just appeared and I gradually realised they fitted the time. When you think about the casualties of the First World War the thing that shocks us most, apart from the sheer scale of the dead and wounded, is how young they were, with tombstone after tombstone in the war cemeteries recording eighteen- and nineteen-year-olds, early twenties; not to mention the graves that make us all want to weep – the fifteen-and sixteen-year-olds who lied about their ages. A young man’s war meant a young woman’s war too, the girls they left behind them, and there was the reason for my girls’ youth.

I grew up reading Victorian and Edwardian novels, particularly the books that began to appear during and following WW1, school stories where girls were encouraged to think beyond marriage and children as their future, and romances and mysteries where young women branched out and seized hitherto unheard of opportunities. I didn’t want to write a school story; what I wanted to write about was how a family of women managed life in wartime, dealing with rationing, grief and other hardships, so my heroines are officially ‘out’, although in their circumstances that doesn’t mean being presented at Court or going to grand balls. Instead they ‘put their hair up’ and – in the case of my girls – they find jobs.

This book is about how my characters how they cope with those jobs when murder starts to stalk them!


Giveaway – Win a paperback copy of The House of Ladywell (Open Internationally)

*Terms and Conditions –Worldwide entries welcome.  Please enter using the Rafflecopter box below.  The winner will be selected at random via Rafflecopter from all valid entries and will be notified by Twitter and/or email. If no response is received within 7 days then I reserve the right to select an alternative winner. Open to all entrants aged 18 or over.  Any personal data given as part of the competition entry is used for this purpose only and will not be shared with third parties, with the exception of the winners’ information. This will passed to the giveaway organiser and used only for fulfilment of the prize, after which time I will delete the data.  I am not responsible for despatch or delivery of the prize.


the convalescent corpse - giveaway prize




About the author:

the convalescent corpse nickydiamondphotocropped


Nicola Slade lives in Hampshire where she writes historical and contemporary mysteries and women’s fiction. While her three children were growing up she wrote stories for children and for women’s magazines before her first novel, Scuba Dancing, was published in 2005. Among other jobs, Nicola has been an antiques dealer and a Brown Owl! She loves travelling and at one time, lived in Egypt for a year. The Convalescent Corpse is Nicola’s 9th novel. Nicola is also a member of a crime writers’ panel, The Deadly Dames https://www.facebook.com/DeadlyDames/

Social Media Links – www.nicolaslade.wordpress.com   www.nicolaslade.com

Twitter: @nicolasladeuk

https://www.facebook.com/nicolasladeuk/  https://www.pinterest.co.uk/nicola8703 (I have a board for each book)



the convalescent corpse full tour banner