New Release August 1st!

I'm so excited to share the news that my next historical saga is The Market Stall Girl, which will be released in Kindle ebook and paperback August 1st.

1913 Yorkshire, England.
Beth Beaumont enjoys her life as a rhubarb farmer’s daughter in West Yorkshire. Working on the family’s stall selling the fruit and vegetables grown in their own fields gives her a sense of purpose and is healthier than working in a dangerous cotton mill.
Although not thinking of marriage, when Beth meets Noah Jackson, a village miner, she is suddenly very aware of Noah as a man who could change her mind. The summer brings the two closer and their feelings deepen while Noah studies hard to fulfill his dreams of becoming a teacher and securing a better life than his parents endure.
But, a disaster at the coal mine changes lives forever. Noah’s plans are shattered. His love for Beth is put at risk, and he fears they can never find happiness together.
However, another man wants Beth. Louis Melville, the wealthy son of a local gentry family, is acutely aware of Beth’s beauty and he wants her for himself. At first, he is willing to offer marriage, but when Beth turns him down in favour of Noah, Melville, furious to be denied, wreaks revenge with devastating consequences.
Will Beth and Noah find the happiness they wish for or will overwhelming events break them apart?

#Edwardian #historicalsaga #familysaga #Wakefield #Yorkshire @amazonkindle

http://mybook.to/TheMarketStallGirl

Guest blog: Mary Nichols - 'We'll Meet Again'

In the first big raid of the London Blitz in 1940, Sheila Phipps loses father, mother and five siblings. The only other possible survivor is her brother, Charlie, but he has disappeared. With no family and no home she has no choice but to live with her snobbish and unsympathetic aunt Constance in Bletchley. Also billeted with her aunt, is Lady Prudence Strange who works at Bletchley Park where German messages are decoded. Sheila is given a job there and the two girls form an unlikely friendship, united in the need to keep what they are doing a secret, even from family and boy friends. They are not the only ones with a secret. As the war progresses, more shocking secrets come to light, which have nothing to do with the war and everything to do with the past.

Excerpt

Sheila thought she knew every inch of every road in the district. It was her home, had been her playground, was where she worked, but it had been a nightmare trying to find her way round blocked off roads, rubble spilling into streets, and a cityscape changed almost beyond recognition. The nearer she came to home, the worse it was. And then she had stopped transfixed.

This street of rubble had once been a row of terrace houses. Now you couldn't tell one from the other. Stones, bricks, bits of wood, broken roof tiles, twisted water pipes, smashed furniture, scraps of cloth and shattered glass were piled up like some giant bonfire. 'Mum,' she murmured.

Bletchley Park: the main house

'Sheila. Sheila Phipps.' The voice was almost against her ear, but it hardly penetrated her confused

brain. 'Sheila.'

She turned at last to face Bob Bennett. He was in his thirties, wearing an armband that told everyone he was ARP and a tin hat on which was stencilled 'Air Raid Warden.'

'Mr Bennett. Where's Mum? And the kids? And Pa? Where are they?'

He put his hand on her shoulder. 'Your mum and the children were at home when it happened.'

'Under that?' She nodded towards the rubble that had once been their house.

'I'm afraid so. It got a direct hit. They wouldn't have known anything about it.  The rescue squad got them out. They were taken to the school to be made ready for identification and burial.'

'All of them? Every single one?'

He nodded. 'Annie was still alive when we dug them out, but she died on the way to hospital.'

'Oh.' She was too numb to shed tears. She felt as dry as the dust that lay thick over everything.  It was still very warm but she felt cold as ice and could not stop shivering.  She found her voice with a monumental effort. 'And Pa? And Charlie?'

'We haven't seen either of them. They'd be at work, wouldn't they?' Since the beginning of the war, they had been working longer shifts and free Saturday afternoons had become a thing of the past. Bob, who worked in a munitions factory when he wasn't being an Air Raid Warden, was working every other Sunday.

'Yes. They'd be due home at half past six, except Pa is in the AFS.'

'He'd be putting out fires then?'

'I suppose so. P'raps Charlie stayed with him.'

'Very likely. You can't stand here, you know. You need to report to the Rest Centre to register as homeless. The WVS will give you a cup of tea and a bite to eat and find you some clothes and a bed for the night.'

'I don't want to rest. I want to see Mum and my brothers and sisters.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes.'

'Very well. I'll take you.'

He took her to a school where the bodies were laid on the hall floor in rows, covered with sheets. If the rescuers knew who they were, they were carefully labelled, though in some cases, they could not be identified. Sheila, following Mr Bennett up and down the rows, thought she must be in the middle of a terrible nightmare. He stopped and bent to read a label. Then slowly drew the sheet back from the face.

Bletchley Park: Back view of the bombe

Mum looked so peaceful, serene almost. Usually she was dashing about cooking, washing, sweeping up and shouting at one or the other of them for not tidying away their things or getting under her feet, flapping at them with a damp tea towel while wisps of auburn hair escaped its pins. Now she slept a final sleep and the lines of worry had gone for her face and she looked like the beautiful woman she had been on her wedding photograph. No wonder Pa had fallen in love with her.

'That is your Mum, isn't it?' Mr Bennett queried.

She nodded without speaking. He covered the face again and went on to the next and the next.  They were all there, except Charlie: Dickie, Dorrie, Maggie, Bobby and little Annie who had only this term joined her brothers and sisters at school. This night the school was a morgue.

'We found them all huddled together,' he said. 'Your mother was lying on top of them, trying to shield them. Of course she couldn't but it was brave of her to try.'

'I should have been there,' she said dully.  'I should have been with them.  Ma said we'd all die together.'

'She couldn't have known that, could she? What with your father and Charlie and you all at work.'

'I expect she thought if there were raids, they'd be at night when we were all at home. I don't know what Pa is going to say when he sees this.  He doesn't know does he?'

'We've sent someone to find him. Now, are you ready for the rest centre?'

'I ought to go and look for Pa.'

'Leave it to us, my dear. You can't go into that inferno and he wouldn't want to lose you too, would he?'

'No, I s'pose not.'

He took her to the South Hallsville school which had been utilised for bombed out families. They were lying on mattresses all over the floor. Some were asleep, some crying, some staring in bewilderment unable to take in what had happened to them. Some women were breast feeding babies, others nursing minor wounds; those with more severe injuries had been taken to hospital. The children's reactions were as divers as the adults about them. The cried, they laughed, they dashed about shouting and pretending to be aeroplanes with arms outstretched. Some, who had lost parents sat huddled in corners looking petrified or weeping heartbrokenly. At the end of the assembly hall a couple of tables had been set up and here Civil Defence and the Women's Voluntary Service worked side by side, taking names, suggesting places to go for the night, handing out tea and sandwiches.

Mr Bennett took her to one of the tables and introduced her, then left. He looked exhausted but she knew he wasn't going home, not yet, not until he had accounted for everyone on his patch.  He had a list of the occupants of every house and business for which he and his men were responsible and he was duty bound to match bodies and survivors against his list.

We’ll Meet Again is out in paperback now, available from bookshop and online. ISBN: 9780 7490 17040.

Mary Nichols is author of The Kirilov Star (saga), Promises and Pie Crusts (e-book), historical romance (Mills & Boon) The Mother of Necton (biography)

Website: www.marynichols.co.uk

Fiction and Reality - Reluctance by Jen Black

The orangery at Gibside

Mary Eleanor Bowes was the daughter and heiress of George Bowes, a wealthy businessman who died when Mary was 11 years old. He left her a vast fortune estimated at between £600,000 and £1,040,000, which he had built up through control of a cartel of coal-mine owners. Mary became the wealthiest heiress in Britain, perhaps in all of Europe. She encouraged the attentions of many young men of noble birth and married the 9^th Earl of Strathmore on her 18th birthday, 24 February 1767. According to her father’s will, the Earl changed his name from John Lyon to John Bowes. The couple lived extravagantly and the Earl spent much of his time restoring his family seat Glamis Castle.

On 7 March 1776, Lord Strathmore died from tuberculosis at sea on his way to Portugal.

At that time, the countess was pregnant by a lover, George Gray a Scottish "nabob" who had made and squandered both his and his first wife’s fortune.

Despite the pregnancy, the dowager countess was loath to marry Grey, since her loss of rank would be considerable and Grey's fortune had been lost. She maintained remarkably candid diaries for much of her life, and wrote of her many abortions brought about by drinking "a black inky kind of medicine.” She continued the affair with Grey and underwent further abortions and was on the point of marrying him when charming and wily Anglo-Irish adventurer, Andrew Robinson Stoney, manipulated his way into her household and her bed.

Calling himself "Captain" Stoney he insisted on fighting a duel in the dowager countess's honour with the editor of The Morning Post, a newspaper which had published scurrilous articles about her private life. In fact, Stoney had himself written the articles both criticising and defending the countess. He now faked a duel with the editor, the Revd. Henry Bate, in order to appeal to Mary's romantic nature. Pretending to be mortally wounded, Stoney begged the dowager countess to grant his dying wish: to marry her. Taken in by the ruse, she agreed.

The tale goes on, and it is easy to find out more about the tribulations of the countess and the prolonged court case that ensued. I have known most of these facts for many years, for the Bowes home and estates were at Gibside, not ten miles from where I live. Intrigued by the story and carried away by the sad romanticism of the now roofless Gibside Hall, I decided to write my own version, using only the bare bones of the story. Mary Eleanor became Frances Bowes, and the dreadful Stoney morphed into Mr Holbrook, so handsome in his regimentals. Frances’s mother, match-making hat firmly in place, claims that he’s admirable husband material but fails to convince Frances, who is far more concerned about Jack Slade’s dramatic re-appearance in the neighbourhood.

Gibside morphed in a fictional Gybford, but the lands and houses are true to the area if not to absolute fact, and I’ve incorporated a fictional tangle of emotions and a heart-rending denouement. I called the book Reluctance, and MuseItUp published it for me and made it available in several formats including Kindle.

Loaded by Jen Black, http://jenblackauthor.blogspot.com

World War II romance

Blitz

The cities of London, Liverpool, Plymouth and many more were decimated by bombs during World War II. An intensive raid such as this was called a Blitz. Military, non-military adults and children died during this time.

Many futures were cut short by untimely deaths during this horrendous part of world history. In the midst of this chaos love bloomed and survived, despite the adversities the couples were forced to face.

My novel Blitz is inspired by my parents. They met and fell in love immediately prior to the war. This kicked off the inspiration for Velma and Jack’s story. I started their tale at the time of their meeting.

Not only did the happy couple have to be strong in the face of the fighting, but they also had to be strong to face up to Velma’s family. Her sisters still considered her the baby of the family and felt they had the right to dictate what she should do. Velma is faced with a budding romance, the threat of war and asserting herself so as to gain control of her own life. Can she and Jack survive these obstacles and emerge victorious?

Blurb

A summer of love can last forever, but clouds of war darken the horizon. Velma and Jack’s happiness is overshadowed by an uncertain future. Jack must leave to fight the enemy. Velma remains at home and does her best to aid her country. Will they survive and live the future of their dreams? Or will bombs and fighting destroy their lives and love? 

Excerpt

May 1938

"Florence, are you there?" Velma knocked on the door. No answer. She pushed it open and called again. "It's only me."

She heard a muffled noise in the kitchen at the back of the house and grinned. Her sister must be busy with little Sam. Florence's life centered on the four-year-old. Everything faded into the background when she and Sam were alone. Velma moved down the hallway and pushed open the door at the end.

Sunshine filled the kitchen and blinded her for a moment. She stretched her arms out wide to welcome the warmth and twirled round and round, the skirt of her cotton print frock flaring as she spun. Velma stopped abruptly. The other person in the room definitely wasn't her sister. Dark eyes watched her. Male eyes full of amusement had followed her carefree dance.

"Who are you?" Her voice sounded breathless. She stopped, facing him. "I might ask you the same question." Velma tilted her head to one side as she considered the man in front of her. He'd made himself at home. The warmth of the kitchen had encouraged him to take off his khaki jacket and drape it over the back of a chair. He wore no shirt. The startling white of his vest stood out against his sunburned arms. Black braces attached to the waistband of his trousers had been released from his shoulders and looped down to accentuate the slim hips. Tendrils of hair on his chest escaped the top of the vest and Velma shivered as a tingle crept through her body.

She had to raise her head to see his face as he stood several inches taller than her. His dark hair had been combed to one side with a precise straight parting, and his face showed a deeper tan than his arms. Her gaze shifted to his twinkling dark brown eyes.

"Like what you see?" 

"I'd like it better if I had a name to put to the face. Who are you?" 

"Ladies first." His infectious grin made Velma respond with a smile of her own. 

"I'm Velma, Florence's sister, and you are..." 

"Jack. George's brother." 

One of Florence's brothers-in-law. Now she knew his identity she could see the resemblance to George. Several of the Stanley brothers had attended Florence's wedding some years ago. She couldn't remember Jack. Both bride and groom came from large families so the church and reception had been pretty crowded.

"Where's Florence?"

"She took little Sam to meet his daddy off the bus." Jack picked up the kettle and filled it from the tap over the sink. "Can I make you a cup of tea?"

"That would be nice."

Velma watched him through lowered lashes as he turned the gas on and struck a match to light the hob. He placed the large kettle over the flames.

"Tell me about yourself."

He emptied the dregs from the teapot. "Not much to tell. I'm younger than George. Joined the RASC a few years ago."

"RASC? Sorry, I don't know what that is." 

"Royal Army Service Corps. I'm a driver and mechanic. There's not much work onHayling Island. I've always been interested in engines and motor vehicles, so I headed straight for the transport section when I joined."

"Aren't you worried about being in the armed services? My brother says there's a war brewing. Germany is trying to grab more than its fair share of land."

"Worried? I'm not sure what you mean. Do you think I'm afraid to fight for my king and country?" He frowned at her, annoyance flashed in his eyes.

Oh heavens, he thinks I'm questioning his bravery!

"Of course that's not what I think," she hastened to explain. "But don't you get a bit frightened you might have to fight. Kill or be killed? I know it would scare me to death."

"There wouldn't be a problem then would there?"

Velma relaxed as Jack grinned and his anger evaporated. He poured hot water into the teapot, swirled it round and emptied it into the sink. Returning the pot to the draining board, he put in three spoonfuls of tea and poured on hot water.

"We'll leave it to draw for a few moments." He placed the teapot on the table, followed by cups, saucers, tea strainer and milk jug. "Do you take sugar?"

"No thanks."

Velma ducked her head to hide her flush of embarrassment. Letting him make her a cup of tea indicated a closeness to each other. She considered Florence's house a second home. She should have been the one to make the pot of tea. To relieve the tension building up inside her she searched for something to say.

"Tell me about Hayling Island. George's spoken of it often. I've never been there."

"Not much to tell really." He poured tea into the cups. "It's a small island just off the coast near Portsmouth. George and I grew up there, along with the rest of our brothers and our sister. My brother Will and I are the same age. He's a postman on the island."

"I know who you are," Velma exclaimed. "You're one of the twins, the youngest one."

"People always call me the youngest." Jack laughed. "Will's only twenty minutes older than me."

"What's it like having someone who's identical to you?"

"It's nice when you're growing up. We always had someone our own age to play with. We looked alike so we played lots of tricks on people. Coming from such a big family having a playmate made all the difference, especially as our sister is the youngest. She got spoiled by everyone. Will and I are nearly thirty now and we've got different ideas on what we want to do, but we're still close."

"I know what you mean about big families," Velma sighed. "We've got the same amount as you. Ours is the other way round. Eight girls and one boy. I'm the baby of the family and at times it's not nice."

"Don't you get spoiled?"

Jack blew on his tea before taking a sip and the same warm shiver rushed through Velma's body. She liked this man a lot, he made her feel relaxed. The comfort made more acute by the thrill of excitement at being so near to him.

"Yes, I've been spoiled," she admitted. "But I also get overprotected. My sisters and their husbands think it's their duty to take care of me. They forget I'm nearly twenty-five and quite capable of taking care of myself. My older sisters have been watching over me for so long I guess it's difficult for them to remember I'm all grown up."

"You look like a full grown woman to me."

Jack's reached out and touched her hand. Warmth passed between them; warmth that promised a wealth of feelings for the future.


Sue Perkins - Author

Buy Link - Desert Breeze Publishing