Category Archives: Blog Tour

**Smart Moves Blog Tour** Extract

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I’ve been chosen to open the blog tour for the lovely Adrian Magson and his new novel ‘Smart Moves‘. Please join me in wishing Adrian, and his publishers Dome Press, a very happy publication day.

International troubleshooter Jake Foreman loses his job, house and wife all in one day. And when an impulsive move lands him in even deeper water – the kind that could lose him his life – he decides it’s time to make some smart decisions.

The trouble is, knowing the right moves and making them is a whole different game. And Jake, who has been happily rubbing along things he always suspected were just a shade away from being dodgy, finds it all too easy to go with the flow.

Now he’s got to start learning new tricks. If he doesn’t, he could end up dead.

It’s my pleasure to present to you a snippet of Adrian’s newest release: ‘Smart Moves‘. I hope this excerpt whets your appetite for more. 

Vic x

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Smart Moves‘ by Adrian Magson:
Extract

I never thought of guys having bad hair days. 

Bad razor days, sure. Relentless stubble and scraped skin is no joke – try kissing my grandmother. Bad head days, too, from much of the wrong kind of booze. But that’s commonplace for anybody with a real life. Some problems, though, can’t be overcome with a slap of skin balm or a handful of pills.

‘You’re laying me off?’ The words dropped into the room like a stun grenade and rolled across the carpet. I stared at my boss, Niall Dunckley, in disbelief.

‘Sign of the times, Jake,’ he replied flatly. ‘Sorry.’ I wondered if that was the beginning of a smile threatening to edge past his bloodless lips. They went well with his fish eyes and the strands of lank hair carefully arranged over his balding head. The overall effect gave him the appearance of an undertaker’s assistant. The kind who stays late at work for all the wrong reasons.

‘Why?’

Pathetic response, I know. But being laid off is having someone say, ‘We don’t need you.’ Or, ‘Get the fuck out of here.’ Or, ‘We found someone we like better.’

Even in this business – what am I saying, especially in this business – it’s akin to a death sentence. A bullet behind the ear. A quiet visit from a bad person on a dark night. I mean, I didn’t know for sure if that had ever happened, but people talk. You hear stuff.

I should explain. I have this oddball kind of job; I work for a side-line operation in a multi-divisional business called HP&P. Nobody knows or cares what the initials stand for, or precisely what the company’s core business is. But I know it has its fingers in a great many pies from civil engineering to shipping to nightclubs – and allegedly, a few things in between. 

It’s the in-betweens which we’re encouraged not to ask about. 

Not that I’m in that sector. I’m a project troubleshooter, and it’s my job to solve problems in faraway places. A gentle talk here, a nudge there, a discreet payment if something gets stuck in the pipeline, that kind of thing. The company operates on a time-sensitive schedule, and delays are unhelpful to the bottom line. As are glitches caused by local officials trying to muscle in and cause problems for their own ends. 

Don’t get me wrong; I don’t use physical pressure – I don’t have to. A sweetener with a local regional governor or a union boss usually does the trick, from Azerbaijan to Zambia. If that doesn’t work, I make a report to Niall Dunckley at HQ in London, and that’s the last I hear of it. Because by then all the talking and offers and mild threats of layoffs will have been exhausted and it’s time to call in the big guns and for me to catch a plane out. I don’t actually know what the big guns are, but that’s where I’m encouraged to turn and look the other way. 

The job pays well and I rarely get to follow up on a previous visit. If I do, it’s usually bad news because the project got canned and there’s a lot of name-calling going in. I’m just there to see that everybody knows whose fault it really is: theirs. 

Over the three years I’ve been doing this I’ve managed to refrain from asking too many questions. It’s one of the main requirements of my job description. Come to think of it, it’s the only requirement. Don’t ask, don’t nose, don’t look. 

And because I find it easier to take the money and not rock the boat, I’ve gone along with it. My bad, as the kids say. Still not sure what that means but it sounds about right. It doesn’t mean I’m dead from the neck up and haven’t occasionally put two and two together and made seven. Being suspicious and doing something about it isn’t always that simple. Or wise. 

Smart Moves‘ is published by Dome Press and is available now. 

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**Sky’s the Limit Blog Tour**

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Looking for a feel-good summer read this weekend? Check out ‘Sky’s the Limit‘ by Janie Millman. 

I’m delighted to be taking part in Janie’s blog tour today. She’s kindly agreed to answer my questions so that we can get to know her better. My thanks to Janie and Dome Press for allowing me to be involved. 

Vic x

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Tell us about your books, what inspired them?
We went on holiday to Marrakech and fell in love with the place. We met some amazing characters, stayed in a fabulously quirky riad with a beautiful but eccentric owner and gradually the germ of Sky’s the Limit was born.

I live in South West France in a town called Castillon La Bataille.  We are in the middle of one of the most famous wine regions of the world, so I guess it was only a matter of time before I incorporated that into a book too.

Where do you get your ideas from?
Locations inspire me. I love discovering new places and meeting new people. I guess subconsciously I am always thinking about stories and characters. They just seem to pop into my head – I’ve always had a very vivid imagination – sometimes too vivid for my own good!

I am also co-owner of Chez Castillon – we host writing & painting courses and retreats and when we are not hosting those we take in wedding guests from a nearby chateau – I have enough ammunition from the characters that pass through our door for the next ten novels!

Do you have a favourite story / character / scene you’ve written?
I don’t really have a favourite character – I really love Elf in Sky’s the Limit and I loved George and Drew – aka Miss Honey Berry – in my first novel Life’s A Drag.

Are you a plotter or a pantster?
If by ‘pantster’ you mean flying by the seat of my pants then a bit of both really. 

I do have a rough idea of the plot. I like to know where the story is going, but I also like to be flexible – I like it when things suddenly happen – when new characters suddenly emerge and take me in a different direction.

Can you read when you’re working on a piece of writing?
Yes, I can read when I am writing but I usually choose something that is a million miles away from what I am working on – unless of course I am reading for research.

What’s the best piece of writing advice you’ve ever been given and who was it from?
One of the best pieces of advice I’ve been given is: ‘you cannot edit a blank page.’ I cannot actually remember for certain who told me that, but I think it may have been the lovely author Jane Wenham-Jones.

What can readers expect from your books?
They can certainly expect the unexpected! 

I hope that readers will love my characters, and I hope they find themselves experiencing new locations, new sounds, smells and tastes.  

I hope they lose themselves in the plot, and I very much hope that they don’t want the book to end and that the stories and cast stay with them for a long while.

I want them to laugh and cry and I want them to think.

Have you got any advice for aspiring writers?
Just Write. Get words on the page – don’t be frightened – you need to enjoy the whole experience.

What do you like and dislike about writing?
I love it when the story starts to come together; I love it when the unexpected happens; I also love it when the characters misbehave  – although not too much!

I don’t like the solitude, the doubts that creep in and the frustration when the words don’t flow and the characters appear one-dimensional. But that passes…. usually!

Are you writing anything at the moment?
Yes I have just finished my third book – well the first draft, so we are still some way from the finishing line. It is another dual location novel, set in Cambridge and Crete.

What’s your favourite writing-related moment?
When I wrote The End to my fist novel Life’s A Drag. I finished it in Bordeaux station when on our way to Arcachon for a few days holiday.

I remember crying because it was the first book I had ever written and I hadn’t really known if I could do it. My husband bought champagne and I spent the holiday dreaming of bestsellers and films… though, that was before the reality set in!

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Sky’s the Limit:
Review.

Sky is devastated when she finds that her husband is in love with her oldest friend Nick. Believing she has lost the two most important people in her life, she travels to Marrakesh on her own. During the trip, Sky meets up with Gail who’s on a mission to track down the father of her child. 

Sky’s the Limit is a great summer read. It takes readers to Morocco and France with an interesting cast of characters who jump off the page. Throughout the story, the vivid characters experience joys they didn’t expect to find which makes this a heart-warming read. 

The description of the places is evocative and atmospheric, and the Moroccan heat seeps out of every line. Millman’s descriptions are rich and her attention to detail is very strong. 

Sky’s the Limit is a light read that’s perfect for the beach. Even if you don’t have a beach, read this novel and prepare to be transported. 

**Death Rope Blog Tour** Extract

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I’m thrilled to be part of the blog tour for Leigh Russell’s newest Geraldine Steel thriller: ‘Death Rope‘. 

Mark Abbott is dead. His sister refuses to believe it was suicide, but only Detective Sergeant Geraldine Steel will listen. When other members of Mark’s family disappear, Geraldine’s suspicions are confirmed. Taking a risk, Geraldine finds herself confronted by an adversary deadlier than any she has faced before. Her boss Ian is close, but will he arrive in time to save her, or is this the end for Geraldine Steel?

Read on for a tantalising extract from ‘Death Rope‘.

Thanks to No Exit Press and, of course, Leigh for having me on this fab blog tour!

Vic x

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Death Rope‘ extract.

Reaching her in waves, the shrill sound seemed to come from somewhere inside her head. It was a few seconds before she realised she was listening to her own screams.

For an instant she stood transfixed, a helpless spectator, before she ran outside, bawling for help. Thankfully the gardener was there, and he followed her back into the hall where her husband was hanging from the banister.

As she fell silent, she could hear him grunting with the effort of supporting the body. His arms clasped around her husband’s legs, he struggled to stop the rope from pulling taut. Above them, Mark’s arms swung limply, and his head hung at an odd angle. She was aware of the gardener’s mouth moving before she realised he was yelling at her to call an ambulance. Trying to nod, she couldn’t move. Her eyes were glued to a ghoulish caricature of a familiar face, bloated tongue protruding between dry lips, tiny red dots of blood speckling the whites of bulging eyes. She stared, mesmerised, at a drop of saliva crawling down his chin, trying to work out whether it was still moving.

The gardener glared at her, and she realised he was still shouting at her to call for help. As if in a dream, she reached for her phone and dialled 999.

A voice on the line responded with unreal composure, assuring her that help was on its way.

‘What does that mean?’ she gabbled. ‘When will they get here?’

‘They’re on their way.’

Time seemed to hang suspended, like the body.

They waited.

Looking down, she struggled to control an urge to salvage her shopping: tomatoes had rolled across the floor, along with other soft foods she had carefully packed on top of packets and tins. One tomato had already been trodden into the carpet. While she was dithering she heard a siren, followed by hammering at the door, and then her own voice, oddly calm, inviting uniformed men into the house.

Of course they were too late to save him. She had known that all along.

Chapter 1

Geraldine smiled at her adopted sister. Despite her complaints about disturbed nights, Celia looked happier than Geraldine had seen her in a long time. Her month-old baby snuffled gently in his sleep as she rocked him gently in her arms.

‘Would you like to hold him?’ Celia asked.

Still smiling, Geraldine shook her head. ‘It might wake him up. Anyway, I really should get going.’

‘It’s still early,’ Celia protested. ‘Even you can’t pretend you’ve got to get back for work tonight. It’s Sunday, for goodness sake. Why don’t you stay overnight and go home tomorrow?’

As a detective sergeant working on murder investigations, Geraldine’s job was no respecter of the time of day, but she wasn’t on a case just then. All the same she shook her head. Even though there was no pressing reason for her to hurry away, she had a long journey ahead of her, and she was back on call in the morning.

‘He’s lovely,’ she repeated for the hundredth time. Privately she thought that her tiny new nephew resembled a pink frog.

‘Don’t get up. We don’t want to disturb him.’

Celia gave a sleepy smile. ‘You’ll come back soon?’

Geraldine was quick to reassure her sister that she would return as soon as she could. She made good time, and reached home in time for supper. She had been living in York for nearly three months and, after a miserable winter, she was starting to feel settled. She was even thinking of selling her flat in London and buying somewhere in York, putting a stamp of permanence on her move. The transformation in her feelings seemed to have taken place almost overnight. One evening she had gone to bed feeling displaced and lonely.

The following morning she had woken up unaccountably at ease in her new home. Driving to work her spirits had lifted further on seeing a bank of daffodils, bright against the deep velvety green slope below the city wall. Already, early groups of oriental visitors were beginning to throng the pavements. She wasn’t looking forward to an influx of summer tourists clogging up the bustling streets of a city that unexpectedly felt like home.

A few weeks had passed since then, and she was still undecided what to do. Celia would be disappointed if Geraldine decided to make her move to York permanent, but the idea of settling there seemed increasingly appealing with every passing week. She had to live somewhere, and York was as good a place as any. She liked it there. Besides, her oldest friend and colleague lived there. She wondered how Ian Peterson would react if he knew she was considering him in making a decision about where she wanted to spend the rest of her life.

Mid-morning on Monday, Geraldine was summoned to an interview room where a member of the public was waiting to lodge a complaint. As an experienced officer, Geraldine was used to fielding vexatious accusations. With a sigh she made her way along the corridor to the room where the irate woman was waiting for her. Stocky and square-jawed, with short grey hair, she sat with trousered knees pressed together and fleshy arms folded across her chest.

‘What seems to be the problem, Ms Abbott?’ Geraldine asked as she sat down.

The grey-haired woman’s eyes glittered and her voice was unsteady. ‘I want to talk to someone about my brother’s murder.’

‘Are you saying your brother’s been murdered?’

‘Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.’

 ‘And is this a murder case that’s under investigation? What’s your brother’s name?’

The woman shook her head, and her ruddy face turned a deeper shade of red.

‘No, no, no. You’re not investigating it. No one’s investigating anything. Look, my brother was found hanging from a banister nine days ago.’ She leaned forward and lowered her voice.

‘They said it was suicide, but that’s simply not true.’

Geraldine frowned, and tried to look interested. She found it was usually best to let aggrieved members of the public have their say.

‘Perhaps you’d better start at the beginning. What makes you suspect your brother’s death wasn’t suicide?’

‘It’s more than a suspicion. I know my brother – that is, I knew him. There’s no way he would have taken his own life. He wasn’t that sort of a person. He was – he was a robust man, Sergeant. He loved life.’

‘Circumstances can have a devastating effect on people, even those we think we know well –’

‘Please, don’t dismiss this as the ramblings of a grieving woman. I knew my brother. He would never have killed himself. He was blessed with a cheerful disposition, and, before you say it, he didn’t suffer from depression, and he didn’t have money worries, or any problems with drink or drugs. There was nothing in his life that might have prompted him to end it. And hanging’s not the kind of death that can happen by accident.

‘No, he was murdered, I’m sure of it. I waited as long as I could before coming forward because I thought no one would believe he killed himself, but now she tells me they’re burying him on Wednesday, so we don’t have much time. I came here to plead with you to look into what happened, before it’s too late.’

Geraldine did her best to pacify the distressed woman, wondering whether Amanda Abbott was simply trying to cause trouble for her brother’s widow.

‘Do you have any evidence that your brother was murdered?

At the moment, all you’ve given me is supposition.’

Amanda shrugged her square shoulders. ‘I wasn’t there, but I know – I knew my brother. Why would he have suddenly done away with himself?’

Geraldine was faintly intrigued. Amanda didn’t strike her as the kind of woman who might be given to hysterical delusions.

‘So if he didn’t commit suicide, and it wasn’t an accident, what do you think happened?’

‘My sister-in-law did it,’ Amanda answered promptly. ‘It’s obvious. They never got on. And now she gets her hands on everything he worked for.’

‘How long were they married?’

‘Over thirty years.’

‘That’s a long time for a couple who don’t get on to stay together,’ Geraldine said quietly.

‘And she finally had enough of him and killed him, only she made it look like suicide so she could get away with it. I’m convinced that’s what happened. Nothing else makes sense.’

Geraldine almost dismissed what she was hearing as a family disagreement, but Amanda was so insistent that she agreed to look into Mark Abbott’s death.

‘Please, you have to find out what happened,’ Amanda said.

‘He was my brother and I’m not going to sit back and see her get away with it, not if I can help it. Will you keep me posted,’ she enquired as she stood up, ‘or can I come back to see how you’re getting on?’ Geraldine promised she would do her best to find out whether there might have been anything unlawful about the death.

Having seen Amanda off the premises, she went to speak to her detective chief inspector, Eileen. A large woman, about ten years older than Geraldine, she had dark hair greying at the temples, sharp features, and an air of solidity that was both reassuring and overbearing at the same time.

‘It sounds like family politics,’ Eileen said, when she had listened to Geraldine’s account. ‘The sister of the deceased is going out of her way to make trouble for his widow. Perhaps she was expecting to be mentioned in his will and is disappointed to have been left out of it?’

‘That’s what I thought. But there’s one more thing. The deceased took out a fairly hefty life insurance policy with a two-year suicide exclusion clause.’

Eileen nodded. ‘And you’re telling me the two years ran out –’

‘A week before his death. Of course, that doesn’t mean he didn’t kill himself. He might have waited so his wife would benefit from the policy,’ she added, speaking more to herself than to her senior officer. ‘But there’s something about it that doesn’t feel right.’

‘If you want to make a few discreet enquiries, that’s up to you. I can’t see we’ve really got anything to investigate, but you can take a look if you like, as long as it doesn’t distract you from your work here.’ Eileen paused. ‘If every widow was accused of murdering her husband when she inherited his estate, we’d have more suspects than police officers.’

**Dancing on the Grave Blog Tour** Guest Post

I’m delighted to be part of the blog tour for Zoe Sharp‘s latest novel ‘Dancing on the Grave‘. Zoe has kindly chosen to chat to us today about the real-life events that inspired her writing. 

Please be warned that this post contains information on real criminal cases so some may find it upsetting.

Vic x

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Death and Beauty: the story behind the story of standalone crime thriller, Dancing On The Grave
By Zoë Sharp

I came up with the idea behind my latest standalone crime thriller, Dancing On The Grave, around sixteen years ago, when John Allen Muhammad and his seventeen-year-old accomplice, Lee Boyd Malvo, shot 27 people with a Bushmaster sniper rifle, killing 17 of them. This became known as the Washington Sniper incident, although the killings took place in Maryland, Virginia and Arizona, as well as Washington DC.

I wanted to explore the motivations for a similar sniper but set on UK soil, where most types of firearms have been banned since the shootings at Hungerford and Dunblane. Also, I didn’t know what truly motivated Muhammad and Malvo, but I wanted to see if I could find a reason that my characters felt they could live with.

The sniper in my book is not a mystery man in that we meet him early on, but working out who he really is, and what really drives him, is not an easy task. I’ve always thought that defining good guys and bad guys is very much a grey area. Good guys are rarely all good, and bad guys so often have significant redeeming features. There was loyalty and a twisted honour involved here, as well as a sense of betrayal and guilt. By the end of it, I felt I could understand my sniper, even if I didn’t necessarily agree with him.

Not so easy are the driving forces behind the disturbed teenage girl who becomes his spotter. Edith is a fantasist and underachiever who is trapped in a dead-end existence and is desperate to be somebody—anybody. For her, almost anything is better than being invisible and forgotten.

The motivations of my police characters were in some ways simpler, and in other ways more complicated to work out. Grace, my CSI, is recently divorced from a wealthy husband who still loves her. She is determined to escape his smothering embrace and make her own way, but her background means few of her colleagues take her seriously, or realise the guilt she carries with her into the job.

And the young Detective Constable she ends up working with, Nick Weston, is an outsider. He came into a new area following the mother of his baby daughter, who promptly split up with him. He’s prickly in the face of resentment from his fellow officers, not to mention hiding the fact that his disastrous last undercover job cost him his nerve.

In 2010, just as I finished the first incarnation of the story that would become Dancing On The Grave, Derrick Bird went on the rampage in west Cumbria, killing twelve people and injuring a further eleven before killing himself. It made me put the novel aside for a long time and it was only recently, with the distance provided by time, that I was able to get it out and work on it again. Even so, there are aspects of the story that stay with me. It’s one of those that gets its teeth into you and doesn’t seem to want to let go.

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Zoë Sharp was born in Nottinghamshire, but spent her childhood living aboard a catamaran on the northwest coast of England. She co-built a house in the Eden Valley area of the Lake District, where ‘Dancing On The Grave‘ is set. She now lives a peripatetic lifestyle, based around writing, sailing, house renovation, and looking after other people’s pets. 

**The Boy Who Wasn’t There Blog Tour** Guest Post

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It’s the second day on the blog tour for ‘The Boy Who Wasn’t There‘ by Emma Clapperton. I’m really thrilled to be supporting Emma on this mini tour for the latest story in her Patrick McLaughlin series. Emma’s here to tell us more about her latest project. 

My thanks to Emma for having me involved.

Vic x

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I had the idea for a supernatural crime series back in 2010, when I created the characters Patrick and Jodie McLaughlin, two psychic mediums living in Glasgow. 

Since 2012, I have released two full novels and two short stories as part of the series, The Suicide Plan is the first in the series. Then we had Beyond Evidence, The Dead Whisper and now, The Boy Who Wasn’t There. 

The Boy Who Wasn’t There came to me on the idea of children who have the gift and I wondered what would happen if the child were to present behaviours similar to that of an adult who was able to communicate with the dead. 

The Boy Who Wasn’t There is a story of betrayal and loss and how one event in your life can change your course. Without giving too much away, I actually really like the character, Rita. She is at the lowest point she can be at and needs comfort from the bottle. 

I like writing with two or more storylines running adjacent to one another and then merging them, because I love the idea that this could really happen. 

I write in the style of what I like to read and that’s how I created The Boy Who Wasn’t There. I also work with young children in the early years sector and so adding that element was fun. 

The novella is a short read at just 17,000 words and I really love writing in short bursts like this. 

I plan on creating a whole range of short stories, but I am also working on a new novel under my own name and a novel under my pseudonym, Alex Kane. 

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**Perfect Dead Blog Tour** Extract #LoveBooksGroup #Blog Tour

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I’m truly delighted to host Jackie Baldwin as part of her blog tour for her second DI Frank Farrell novel, ‘Perfect Dead‘. Thanks to #LoveBooksGroup for arranging this tour. 

I’ve known Jackie for two and a half years, having first met her at Crime and Publishment. Since then, we’ve hung out at events like Harrogate, Bloody Scotland and Killer Women as well as Noir at the Bar. Jackie is one of the kindest people you will ever meet – don’t be fooled by her dark crime writing! 

Today, we have the pleasure of an extract from ‘Perfect Dead‘ to whet your appetites. 

Vic x

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Perfect Dead: Extract

Standing at the bottom of the drive, her eyes misted with tears, she looked back up at the brooding Victorian house with no sign of the maggots crawling within. She texted her elder sister, Maureen.

I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I’m on my way home. Ailish. x

Walking towards the bus stop, she heard her name being called. Surprised, she glanced behind her. When she saw who it was, she smiled and walked towards him. The bus wasn’t due for another hour. She had time.

Soon she was ensconced in a comfy armchair, knees drawn up under her, a warm mug of hot chocolate clasped in her hands. As she poured out her woes he leaned forward attentively. The drink was comforting, strong and sweet.

She paused. She didn’t feel so good. Her eyes couldn’t focus. She struggled to stand up, but her legs wouldn’t support her and she collapsed back onto the chair. Alarmed now, her heart flopped in an irregular rhythm as she tried to make sense of what was happening to her.

‘Help me,’ she whispered, looking up at him. This couldn’t be happening. She didn’t understand.

He remained where he was, a creeping malevolence revealing itself to her. She was on the verge of losing consciousness when he picked up her unresisting body and carried her into another room. He laid her on a thick plastic sheet.

A last tear tipped from her eyes.

She would never see her home again.

**

About ‘Perfect Dead’.

Each murder brings him one step closer to the perfect death.

Ex-priest, DI Farrell is called on to investigate a gruesome death in rural Scotland. All evidence points to suicide, except for one loose end: every light in the cottage was switched off. Why would he kill himself in the dark?

The question sparks a murder investigation that leads to the mysterious Ivy House, home of ‘The Collective,’ a sinister commune of artists who will do anything to keep their twisted secrets hidden.

And when the remains of a young girl are uncovered on a barren stretch of coastline, Farrell realises that there is something rotten in this tight-knit community. Now he must track down a ruthless killer before another person dies, this time much closer to home…

***

About Jackie Baldwin, 
Author of ‘Perfect Dead‘.

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Jackie Baldwin is a Scottish crime writer. Her debut crime novel, Dead Man’s Prayer, was published by Killer Reads, Harper Collins, on 2nd September 2016. The second in the series, Perfect Dead was published on 15th June 2018.

For most of her working life, Jackie has been a solicitor specialising in Family and Criminal Law. However, she now practices as a hypnotherapist in Dumfries which is where her novels are set. Married, with two grown-up children, she has filled her empty nest with Golden Retrievers. She can often be found in a forest walking the dogs, covered in mud and with twigs in her hair. 

**The Gilded Shroud Blog Tour** Author Interview

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It’s my pleasure today to have Elizabeth Bailey, author of ‘The Gilded Shroud‘ on the blog.

Elizabeth Bailey says she feels lucky to have found several paths that have given her immense satisfaction – acting, directing, teaching and, by no means least, writing. 

She has been privileged to work with some wonderful artistic people, and been fortunate enough to find publishers who believed in her and set her on the road.

Elizabeth has kindly taken the time to answer my questions so we can get to know her, and her writing process, better. My thanks to Elizabeth for taking the time to answer my questions. If you fancy getting in touch with her, you can tweet Elizabeth

Vic x

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Tell us about your book(s).
The Gilded Shroud
 is the genesis of Ottilia, Lady Fan, who turns by chance into sleuth extraordinaire and, incidentally, meets the love of her life in the process. It’s a murder mystery set in the late 18th Century, with a dollop of upstairs downstairs and a touch of romance too.

What inspired them?
My original idea was Ottilia as a potential heroine for the first in a series of sweeping romantic historicals which never materialised. My brother one day suggested it might make a detective story, and that set me off thinking. When I finally took the plunge, I intended at first that Ottilia, a wispy retiring sort of female as I thought, would be the brains in the background behind the apparent showy male sleuth, but the moment she set foot on the page she took centre stage and refused to be dislodged. So that was that.

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What do you like most about writing? What do you dislike (if anything)?
I love the way it surprises me with turns and twists I never expected, and I like finding creative ways to express things rather than turning to clichés. I like the process of watching it unrolling as I write what I see, like a film reel projecting onto a screen somewhere in the air around me. 

I hate what we writers call treacle books, when the words won’t flow and you just have to drag them out one by one, sticking with it as you really feel as if you are wading through a sticky sea. You learn to keep at it, and quite often find you do good work in spite of the stop/start nature of the writing. Fortunately, readers can’t usually tell if a book was treacle to write. There’s always the editing process to fix it.

Do you find time to read, if so what are you reading at the moment?
I can’t not read. I started as a reader and reading feeds my imagination. My reading time is an hour or so before I go to sleep – assuming I’m not so hooked I can’t put the book down. I’m just finishing Tarquin Olivier’s book about his famous father, and I’ll be starting on Jodi Taylor’s latest St Mary’s Chronicles, to which I am addicted. My TBR pile is pretty eclectic as I read all sorts of genres, as well as biographies and books that add to my knowledge of my period and other history.

Which author(s) has/have had the biggest influence on your writing?
Primarily Georgette Heyer – of course. Also Daphne du Maurier, who does dark with panache and beauty; Rumer Godden, who is both lyrical and cryptic, as she doesn’t tell you everything. And Dean Koontz, who is so good at surprising twists. Finally, PG Wodehouse for humour. He has the one-liner gag down to a fine art. But I can learn from almost any writer – a turn of phrase, a twist, a different voice. It all goes into the maelstrom and comes out somewhere without my realising it.

Where do you get your ideas from?
They tend to leap out from nowhere. I might catch a rhythm, a fleeting glimpse of some image, song or dream, a snippet in a news item or programme, a phrase or word in a social media post even. The spark might not even reveal itself because the idea wafts in and before I know it the what-if game is on. I do jot ideas in notebooks. If I’m stuck for a plot, I can sift through to see if anything catches my imagination. I think most writers have more ideas than they know what to do with, or will ever write up as stories. The ones that gel will hopefully roll into fodder for readers, if the process goes well.

Do you have a favourite scene/character/story you’ve written?
My current completed book is usually my favourite. Not the one I’m writing because that’s in too much upheaval to be loved. Though I am usually falling in love with my characters in the work in progress. But the one that’s done and dusted, that’s the one I can afford to love until it gets superseded by the next. I do have a few that are perennial favourites and I am rather in love with Lord Francis Fanshawe. As for scenes, when I have occasion to re-read a book, sometimes I find one that really pleases me, and I will wonder how I managed to make it that good.

What are you working on at the moment?
I am writing another Lady Fan mystery, in between my traditional Regency romances. Mysteries take more thought, more time and energy as one must tie everything in together and half the time I don’t know what’s about to happen.

What’s the best piece of writing advice you’ve been given (and who was it from)?
Funnily enough, it was my mother, who is a poet rather than a novelist and my beta reader in my early days, who gave me the best piece of advice. She said one day that she thought I was ending my chapters in the wrong place by running a scene to a conclusion rather than keeping it back. She woke me up to cliffhangers.

Are you a plotter or a pantster?
When I began writing I plotted extensively, but was forever having to adjust the plot as new ideas sprang up. Now I’m a total pantster. Apart from the opening springboard, I have no idea where the story is going and must trust to my inner writer. That is not to say that ideas don’t float about in my head, but when I sit down to write I never know what words are going to come out through my fingers. Still less do I know who committed the murder!

Do you have any advice for aspiring writers?
Keep at it. We all say that. Get the words down any way you can. You can’t edit a blank page. Being a writer is all about persistence. Not just keeping going against the rejections. But keeping going when life throws brickbats at you; when you think you’ll never get to the end; when the deadline is looming and panic strikes; and when you’d honestly do anything – take out the rubbish, clean the car, walk the cat – rather than sit down and write. Successful writers work through every pit stop and drive through to the end. Every time.

What’s been your proudest writing-related moment?
Apart from my very first acceptance which sent me to the ceiling where I remained for days, I think it’s the review of The Gilded Shroud that said: “Georgette Heyer lives – and is writing mysteries as Elizabeth Bailey”. That accolade said it all for me. I grew up on Heyer and still consider her the greatest writer in the Regency genre she spawned. We all wish we could write at her level, so this was to me the best compliment ever.