Blog Tour: And a Sixpence for Luck by Lilac Mills

I am delighted to be one of today’s stops on the blog tour for And a Sixpence for Luck by Lilac Mills

There are still a few remaining stops on the tour, here’s where it’s heading next.

 

Synopsis

Daisy Jones has hit rock bottom. Or so she believes.

A cheating boyfriend, trouble at work, having to move back in with her mother, and being forced to compare her brother’s loved-up, newly-wed status and spanking-new shiny house with her own dire lack of prospects isn’t what she imagined her life was going to be like at thirty. To top it all off, Christmas is just around the corner!

And when her ancient great-grandmother plants a silver sixpence in the Christmas pud, Daisy’s run of bad luck is about to get a whole lot worse.

Review

 

 

Many thanks to Lilac, Jenny and Neverland Blog Tours for my advanced reader copy and inviting me on the tour!

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About the Author

 

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Blog Tour: The Stories She Tells by L K Chapman

I am delighted to be able to share with your a guest post from L K Chapman, as part of the blog tour for her latest book, The Stories She Tells.

There are still a few remaining stops on the tour, here’s where it’s heading next.

The Stories She Tells banner.jpg

Synopsis

51BhtPU+WPL.jpgWhen Michael decides to track down ex-girlfriend Rae who disappeared ten years ago while pregnant with his baby, he knows it could change his life forever. His search for her takes unexpected turns as he unearths multiple changes of identity and a childhood she tried to pretend never happened, but nothing could prepare him for what awaits when he finally finds her.

Appearing to be happily married with a brand-new baby daughter, Rae is cagey about what happened to Michael’s child and starts to say alarming things- that her husband is trying to force her to give up her new baby for adoption, that he’s attempting to undermine the bond between her and her child, and deliberately making her doubt her own sanity.

As Michael is drawn in deeper to her disturbing claims he begins to doubt the truth of what she is saying. But is she really making it all up, or is there a shocking and heartbreaking secret at the root of the stories she tells?

A day in the life of Tamsin Quinnell

..1Tamsin wakes up when her baby daughter Madeline starts to cry. Her husband Paul is still asleep and she reluctantly gets out of bed to make up a bottle for the baby, feeling tired and withdrawn. She wants to have an easy day with Madeline but doesn’t hold up much hope that that will be the case as she finds being a mum very challenging and draining. She always seems to be forgetting things and getting confused, so in the kitchen she concentrates very hard as she measures out scoops of baby formula into the bottle.

..2Madeline’s room is decorated in soft pinks. There is a pile of clean, folded sheets and baby clothes on top of the chest of drawers. Tamsin sits on a chair in the nursery with the baby on her lap and before long she hears Paul get up and go downstairs to make some coffee. She joins him in the kitchen and he gives her and the baby a slightly odd, sad look that sends a feeling of unease through her, but then he kisses both her and Madeline and everything seems normal again.

..3Once Paul has gone out to a business meeting and she has spent a fraught hour or so of trying to calm a fussing and crying Madeline, Tamsin has a long bath while the little girl is sleeping. Afterwards she sits down at her mirrored dressing table to carefully apply her makeup, then she spends a while choosing an outfit. She hears the front door open downstairs and her housekeeper calls out a greeting, but Tamsin doesn’t reply straight away, she’s concentrating on getting dressed and styling her hair. She finally says hello to her housekeeper Sally when she feels peckish and goes downstairs to find something to eat. She looks around for a while for some food she fancies and settles on a handful of blueberries, which she eats in a few big mouthfuls, while Sally chatters away cheerfully to her.

..4Later on, Tamsin goes out for a walk to the farm shop down the road, taking Madeline with her in her pushchair. She spends a long time walking around the shop looking at all the produce, but buys very little and makes her way slowly back to the house again. She feels listless, and is looking forward to Paul coming back home. She opens the fridge to find something to snack on and she sees that Sally has left a dish of pasta bake for them to heat up for their dinner later on. Briefly it feels surreal to her to have nice, home-cooked food in the house but she shakes the feeling away.

..5When Madeline goes for a nap again, Tamsin pours herself a glass of wine and goes down to her art studio in the garden, taking the baby monitor with her. There is a cosy sofa against the wall in the studio and she sprawls out across it taking sips of wine and looking out of the window, watching the sun across the fields behind the garden. Before long she falls asleep and wakes up when Paul finds her and tells her that Madeline is crying, and Tamsin realises that although she has the baby monitor with her, it hasn’t actually been on.

..6During the evening Tamsin drinks more wine with Paul and forgets for a while about her struggles caring for Madeline as the pair laugh and talk together. She snuggles close to Paul in bed and tells him that she loves him. He says that he loves her too but that he wishes things weren’t so hard for her, but she has already fallen asleep.

 

Many thanks to Louise and Emma for inviting me on the tour!

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About the Author

LKChapman

Louise Katherine Chapman was born in Somerset, UK, in 1986. She studied psychology at the University of Southampton and has worked as a psychologist creating personality questionnaires for a consultancy company. She has also spent some time volunteering for mental health charity Mind.

Chapman loves to write because she loves learning about people and she loves stories. A major turning point in her life was the day she realised that no matter how strange, cruel or unfathomable the actions of other people can sometimes be, there is always a reason for it, some sequence of events to be unravelled. Since then she is always asking “why” and “what if” and she is fascinated by real life stories capturing the strength, peculiarities or extremes of human nature.

L K Chapman’s first novel, Networked, was a sci-fi thriller but now she’s turned her attention to writing psychological suspense. She lives in Hampshire with her husband and young family, and enjoys walks in the woods, video games, and spending time with family and friends.

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Blog Tour: Oh! What a Pavlova by Isabella May

I am delighted to be hosting an extract from Isabella May’s debut novel Oh! What a Pavolva as part of the blog tour.

There are still a few remaining stops on the tour, here’s where it’s heading next.

Oh! What a pavlova Tour Banner.jpg

Synopsis

Pavlova Book Cover

Kate Clothier is leading a double life: a successful jet-setting businesswoman to the outside world, but behind closed doors, life with Daniel and his volcanic temper is anything but rosy.

Some days – heck, make that EVERY day – cake is her only salvation.

Slowly but surely, the cities she visits – and the men she meets – help her to realise there IS a better future.

And the ley lines of Glastonbury are certainly doing their best to impart their mystical wisdom…

But will she escape before it’s too late?

Extract

Chapter One 

My infidelities had been set in motion some time ago, in Lyon during my Uni gap year, a mere three years into my relationship with Daniel.

I’d always dismissed my very brief fling with Pierre, the engineering postgraduate, as nothing more than getting things out of my system before settling down to married life. It colluded with the childishly sketched pictures of ‘our future country cottage’ that Daniel would send me, along with the lovesick letters which arrived in forlorn bundles begging me to always stay with him, have his children, cats and dogs. Even then it scared me sideways, the lengths to which he had water-coloured my life without as much as a consultation.

One Saturday I was whisked off to a ball with another English student friend. Both of us were stranded as teachers in a further education centre; a grey concrete jungle of nothingness, on the outskirts of the city. A mutual acquaintance just happened to be the not-much-older-big-sister of one of the engineering postgrads at Lyon University, securing us some much swooned over tickets.

The engineering ball was quite the grandest event I had been to at the time. Swarms of hot-blooded French men outnumbered the women four-to-one on the dance floor. The Teenage Wedding song from Pulp Fiction blared out and Pierre made his move: Quite from nowhere, quite a surprise, quite mmm. I played Ice Maiden admirably for a couple of verses.

“Je ne peux pas te baiser, j’ai un copain,” I protested feebly every time he dived in for an intoxicating kiss.

Before long, I yielded to his charm; the heady scent of his expensive aftershave helping things along. As the night drew to a close and I discovered the meaning of a real French kiss, he inscribed his phone number the length of my inner arm in pillar box red Chanel lipstick, blunting my favourite make-up as he swept back his long model locks to concentrate. I felt quite the tarte.

But I was too stunned by my actions to care about Daniel, except for a brief spell a couple of weeks down the line when he had caught the Eurostar over to visit. He was a shadow of his former self, having eaten barely a thing since I’d left. Then the guilt caved in. Then I felt utterly wretched for cheating. I worried myself sick when he left, that the next time we ‘met’ would be at his funeral. It was enough to make me abandon my studies and the silly year away. What was I doing to him? It wasmy selfishness and insistence on completing my language degree that had driven him to the brink of anorexia. Remembering the words his mother uttered just weeks before my departure hadn’t exactly eased my complex:

“But you’re not really going to go away and leave him, are you, Kate? I mean, you’ll jack Uni in and not abandon him on his own like this for a year, won’t you?”

“Appellez-moi,” Pierre ordered.

“Just you try to stop me from calling you,” I said, hardly believing my luck.

I managed to wait a whole twelve hours, unable to think of anything else but that kiss and the fire it had unleashed in areas it shouldn’t have. Then I called him, French script in hand, in case I needed a prompt and my throat froze over in pre-date silence.

Encounter numero deux was outside Lyon’s Opera House, where romantic took on a whole new dimension. Dressed in my Little Black Dress, I searched for him up and down, around and around the grand steps; a wanton mademoiselle struggling to catch her breath as a vision of floppy golden-haired loveliness appeared in the distance. In his long black designer coat, he was other-worldly. And I wondered just how many forbidden trysts had there been on those very same steps, beneath the watchful gaze of a French October sunset?

We walked side by side, sneaking furtive glances at one another, trying to hide our beaming smiles. I desperately wanted him to put his arm around me, but it was too early. Besides, this was no date as such. He’d simply invited me over to his apartment. Obviously I’d taken a small overnight bag with me anyway – just in case.

When we finally arrived, after striding through some ridiculously posh parts, I felt like a glamorous Screen Siren, transported back to the heyday of Hollywood. The apartment belonged to a class one needed to be born into. As for the bathroom, I’d never seen anywhere as stocked from floor to ceiling with expensive French aftershaves. No wonder the boy smelt good.

We spent a wonderful evening chatting, laughing, kissing, watching films. He had the most uncannily identical music collection. Although Radiohead’s ‘Creep’ raging across the sound system upon the flick of a hidden high-tech switch, was hardly the most appropriate of songs when things were getting raunchy, even if I adored Tom York’s melancholic warble.

Something happened after the fading of that song.

Many thanks to Isabella and Emma for inviting me on the tour!

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About the Author

20727954_1520842571287345_3297279732800217653_nIsabella May lives in (mostly) sunny Andalucia, Spain with her husband, daughter and son, creatively inspired by the sea and the mountains. When she isn’t having her cake and eating it, sampling a new cocktail on the beach, or ferrying her children to and from after school activities, she can usually be found writing.

As a co-founder and a former contributing writer for the popular online women’s magazine, The Glass House Girls – http://www.theglasshousegirls.com – she has also been lucky enough to subject the digital world to her other favourite pastimes, travel, the Law of Attraction, and Prince (The Purple One).

She has recently become a Book Fairy, and is having lots of fun with her imaginative ‘drops’!

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