If you're a fan of light-hearted women's fiction, then this is definitely one for you. I loved it from start to finish. I think we can all identify with Katie from time to time. When she feels totally taken for granted by her husband and kids, she gets on a train one day and doesn't get off until it reaches its destination: London. Frock In Hell by Yvonne Vincent is a real tonic. A wonderful mix of characters who had me laughing, empathising, crying and then laughing again. It's one of those books you just don't want to end. Amazon Blurb Have you ever been on a train and wondered what would happen if you didn’t get off - just carried on to the end of the line? In the throes of a spectacular mid-life crisis and feeling rather unappreciated at home, Katie Frock takes an unplanned journey to London, leaving her supposedly grown-up family behind to figure out how to work the washing machine. Far away in Fancy London, Katie makes new friends, becomes the Banksy of the culinary world and accidentally gets mixed up in some very shady business. But when her new life comes crashing down, she realises that what she really needs is family.
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I saw a post recently that mentioned Paperback Writer, by The Beatles, and I couldn't get it out of my head. It was probably the kind of mood I was in, but it inspired me to put pen to paper. Trouble is, every time I read it I can't help but sing it. Dear Sir or Madam Please don’t read my book It’s a load of rubbish Not worth a look. It was a mad idea Over a bottle of wine Which I have to say Wasn’t mine. It’s about two women Who refuse to grow old But they’re really good company Or so I’m told. They take a trip And head to Greece But get thrown in jail By the local police. The body in the truck Really wasn’t their fault They’ll be released quite soon Or so they thought. When drugs in the ornaments Came to light It made things worse And deepened their plight. From bad to worse The saga went But the multi-millionaire Was heaven sent. They go to Sardinia Where they meet a man Who’s conning women Out of all he can. Aided and abetted By the Lonely Frau She’s totally besotted The silly cow. In a jealous rage She pulls a gun It’s utter chaos For everyone. But someone gets hurt And they need to act fast They hope this incident Will be the last. They’re off to Asia On a spiritual quest It’s underwater walking That starts the mess. Everyone’s gone missing Except for the child But where are his parents? They feel quite riled. They care for the boy Take him under their wing But they can’t stay forever That’s the thing. They take him home To Singapore That’s all they can do Nothing more. When everything changes They must get a grip But the pair go missing On a shopping trip. The chance to speak On a Caribbean cruise A rare opportunity They couldn’t refuse. They sail the seas And see a lot New York their favourite They shop till they drop. Their dinner companions An eclectic bunch But when one of them dies They follow a hunch. Was it murder? Or a natural demise They’re off on a mission But that’s no surprise. I'll now stop writing This drivelling rhyme But I hope you’re intrigued By these books of mine. You can buy on Amazon Even read for free And if you take a chance It would really please me. I’d be totally grateful If you come on board And join our group Of Innocents Abroad. Moonlight Over Muddleford Cover by Kin Nash is a lovely little heartwarming romantic comedy. Nell, the main character, has a really rough start at the beginning of the story and, with no family support, you have to feel for her. However, an unexpected letter from a solicitor brings many new possibilities, but is Nell brave enough to embrace them? If you're looking for a nice, feel-good story then I totally recommend this. Amazon Blurb When thirty-four-year-old Nellie Wagstaff loses her job and discovers her fiancé is a cheating scumbag, she feels like her world has come crashing down. And that’s before the solicitor’s letter, informing her of her Aunty Lil's death. Heartbroken, Nellie escapes to the beautiful seaside town of Muddleford in Dorset, where she discovers she’s inherited her aunt’s beach house, along with a gorgeous beach hut just for starters and finally meets the mysterious Norman who stole her Aunty Lil's heart. Childhood memories of Muddleford come flooding back: long hot summers, the sea glistening beyond the sandy cove... and a stolen kiss with a boy called Jack. Jack, now a devilishly handsome vet, has the local pet owners swooning over him, and as Nellie and he become close once more, and she gets used to gossiping with the locals and sipping wine at her beach hut with sand between her toes, she’s sure she can feel sparks flying once more. But just as she thinks she might be able to open her heart again, her newest frenemy, the glamorous Natalia, tells her a secret about Jack that changes everything. Nellie will never know why her mother and aunt parted ways. She’ll sell the house, forget about Jack, and get back to real life. Because there’s nothing for her in Muddleford... is there? I first came across author Yvonne Vincent on social media and something about her posts clicked with me. I wasn't sure about her books at first, but nothing ventured nothing gained. How wrong I was. Her style of writing and sense of humour had me laughing out loud and I was hooked. Going home to her parents with her two teenage children after a divorce, Penny decided to start a slimming club. But when the locals start talking about a murder on her first night, she soon found the whole group on more of a mission to find the killer than lose weight. I loved the characters in this story, an eclectic mix of strangeness. This is a great cosy-crime novel, written with humour, that draws you in the more you read. The good news is there's a whole series to explore. Amazon Blurb There's a murderer on the loose on a storm swept island cut off from the Scottish mainland. It's down to Losers Club, a quirky weight loss group led by the intrepid Penny Moon, to catch the culprit. Set against the backdrop of a storm-swept island off the Scottish mainland, this tale of intrigue and wit follows the unlikely heroes of Losers Club as they embark on a journey to catch a cunning murderer. Led by the fearless Penny Moon, Losers Club is a group like no other – a quirky weight loss community with heart, humour, and a knack for unravelling mysteries. I think most of us have hobbies, whether it be walking, gardening, reading, stamp collecting, and so on. Mine is crocheting. As a writer I think it's important to have something that helps you switch off from the constant dialogue that runs through your head. My brain just doesn't switch off when I'm working on my next book, always wondering where my characters will take me next. When I immerse myself in crocheting I have to concentrate solely on what I'm doing. It's a great form of mindfulness. I taught myself to crochet many years ago. My mum taught me to knit when I was a child, but neither of us could crochet. I love a challenge so had to learn and now I can't stop making stuff, mainly throws and afghans. My friend calls me the happy hooker! I made this for a friend's granddaughter as a Christmas present. She chose her own colours to match her bedroom. Dark colours are not the easiest to work with so I ended up buying a neck torch. What a bonus that proved to be. I love the finished throw and apparently she does too. For those who may be interested, the pattern is called Star of Wonder and is one of Helen Shrimpton's (from Crystals and Crochet) designs. The colours are teal, white and black. What hobbies do you enjoy? #crochet #hobbies March's promotion is all about Women Fighting Crime and I have to say it's the perfect fit for Donna and Fiona. If you like crime stories with strong female leads, these are for you. With over 50 titles to choose from, the promotion is open until 25th March.
February's promotion is all about mystery and suspense. Over 90 books are included here and are available until the end of the month. Have fun choosing.
“Shit, Donna, what the hell do we do now?”
“I don’t know.” “I wonder if there’s anyone around this place who’s going to the port and could give us a lift. If we can get there, we can still catch the boat back to Rhodes.” Fiona felt it might be a bit too optimistic. The monastery had a deserted feel about it. Everyone had left. “We could get on the next boat that comes in,” suggested Donna. “We could, but the problem with that is we have no idea when the next boat is due or where it’s going. We could end up in Timbuktu!!” “What do you suggest?” “Let’s see if we can find someone,” suggested Fiona, “we can’t stand here all day debating what we should do next, we have to be active.” There was not a soul to be seen as they wandered around the monastery. They headed back into the gift shop, nobody there either. With the departure of the boatful of tourists, everyone had scuttled away to get on with their daily tasks until the next boat came in. Fiona and Donna were getting more and more desperate and had visions of spending the night in a place that seemed to have had the life sucked out of it. It was not a welcoming thought. A faint sound of whistling carried on the breeze. Fiona and Donna stood still looking at each other and, as if with one mind, turned and rushed towards the sound. They found the source at the back of the gift shop. “Kalemera,” called Donna. The man looked up, clearly surprised to see them. “Kalemera,” he replied. “Do you speak English?” she asked, pronouncing each syllable in the same loud tone, as if speaking to a deaf idiot. “Oxi.” The women looked at each other and shrugged. The limit of Donna’s Greek extended to good morning, good evening, thank you and a large white wine please. The man went back to loading boxes into the back of a white pickup truck that looked a little the worse for wear. Donna tried again with her loud, monosyllabic approach. “We need to go to port – you take us?” Gesticulating wildly and pointing in a direction that she hoped conveyed distance, she looked like a possessed dervish. Clearly understanding English better than he could speak it, he nodded his head vigorously and held up ten fingers. They hoped that meant in ten minutes they would be on their way to the port and safely onto the boat heading back to Rhodes. Both Donna and Fiona smiled, nodded manically and gave the thumbs-up sign. “Donna,” she said, patting her chest, “Fiona,” patting Fi’s chest before Fi started swatting her hand away. “You?” Donna questioned. “Ahh,” he said, patting his own chest vigorously. “Costas.” Introductions made, the girls were eager to set off, but Costas appeared to be in no hurry. A Greek ten minutes was nothing like a British ten minutes. Costas continued loading boxes into the truck. A large man with an enormous belly overhanging his trousers, he obviously found the manual labour hard work as sweat poured from his brow. A fringe of what was once dark hair but now peppered with shades of grey showed around the back and sides of his head, and the grey stubble belied a lack of shaving rather than any cultivated designer look. Nevertheless, Costas had a kind, smiling face, and his blue eyes twinkled under the brim of his cloth cap. The entire island was only about ten miles from top to bottom so it shouldn’t take them long to reach the town where their boat would be docking any minute now. But they had no idea what the roads were like, and if Costas didn’t get a move on, they feared they would never get there. As he loaded in the last box he indicated they should get into the truck. Donna swept the empty food packets and chocolate wrappings to the floor to join the ever growing heap as she climbed onto the bench seat. Cigarette packets lined the dashboard, and rosary beads hung from the rear-view mirror. Considering this was a working vehicle, Costas took little pride in it. Costas huffed and puffed and heaved his bulk behind the steering wheel and started the engine. Mopping his brow with a greying, fetid rag that may once have been a white handkerchief, it was clear the heat was getting to him. With no air conditioning in the truck, he wound down his window and indicated that Fiona should do the same. “Eeet no long before port,” he said, turning on the radio and blasting out the dulcet tones of Demis Roussos. The cooling breeze through the windows with the pungent scent of wild herbs was wonderful, and the girls relaxed as visions of their boat drew ever closer. The drive along the narrow bumpy roads was pleasant enough, and the rugged scenery was in sheer contrast to the green fields they were used to back at home. Costas’ driving left a lot to be desired and the truck started to weave from side to side and gather speed. Donna looked across at him in alarm as she and Fiona grabbed at anything to keep themselves secure in their seats. She didn’t think Costas looked very well at all. The colour had drained from his face, he looked grey and still the sweat ran in rivulets down his cheeks. “Costas, are you OK? Can you slow down a bit, please?” There was no answer, and suddenly the trucked skewed off to the right and ploughed through the rough bushes, bouncing over rocks. The girls hung on for dear life, Donna calling and shaking Costas to get a response. Slowly the truck came to a stop as it scraped along a boulder. It was a miracle that it remained on four wheels. All was silent for what seemed like an age then, as if in slow motion, Costas slumped forward over the steering wheel, his face pressing against the horn, which was deafening in the silence of their stillness. “What the bloody hell just happened?” asked Donna, clearly shaken. “I don’t think Costas is very well.” Fiona was looking across at the man slumped over in the driving seat. “Not very well is a bit of an understatement, Fi,” replied Donna, as she moved her hand away from Costas’ neck. “He’s dead.” #agreekmisadventure #Symi #Greece The beginning of a new year always brings the urge to make changes to my life, whether they be small little tweaks or some bigger shifts depends on my mood at the time. This year I've decided is a tweaky year. Tweak 1: I will let my authentic self come to the fore, rather than push her into the shadows. I've been inspired over the last month by an author I stumbled across on Threads. I've read a couple of her books and joined her Facebook pages. She comes across as totally her authentic self and I resonate with that. For so long I've been so wary about posting stuff on social media or in my blogs in case I offend someone. Well no more - the real Elaine Collier is standing up. From now on what you see is what you get, warts and all. I apologise if I offend you in any way, I honestly don't mean to, but if I meet you in person one day you won't be too shocked. Tweak 2: I'm going to be more proactive with marketing. I hate marketing my work, it feels icky to me. But that has to change. It's all very well sitting at my desk all day writing novels, but if no one knows they exist then no one can read them. So I've chosen Facebook to be my main social media platform and will be posting a lot more about all sorts of random stuff. I'll also be making much better use of my website, especially this Other Stuff page. I hope in time I might grow to actually like this marketing malarky, but in the meantime I shall pull on my big girl knickers and just bloody well get on with it. Oh and if you're wondering who the author is that I talk about in Tweak 1, it's Yvonne Vincent and her books are on Amazon. #authors #tweaks #indie authors |
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