Escaping the city doesn’t mean escaping the criminals…
1916, Midwinter Manor: Desperate for a Christmas weekend break from war-torn London, Hannah Merrill and her Aunt Violet take Bartleby the cat and themselves off to visit Hannah’s sister, in her beautiful country estate, deep in the English countryside.
The huge house is full of relatives, friends and merrymakers, and everyone’s excited to have a Christmas to remember.
But then, when a fellow-guest’s body is found in the library – apparently bludgeoned to death – and a precious ruby is stolen from another guest, it appears that it’s going to be memorable for all the wrong reasons.
With the house snowed in, and the rural police force completely incapable of finding a single credible suspect, Hannah and Aunt Violet realise that once again it’s going to be down to them to get to the bottom of it.
Because whoever’s behind the crimes must be at Midwinter Manor… And if they’re not found, who knows what their next ‘gift’ will be?
A totally unforgettable Golden Age, country house, cozy crime novel, perfect for fans of Helena Dixon, Verity Bright, and Agatha Christie.
Murder at Midwinter Manor is the third Miss Merrill and Aunt Violet mystery book, and I’ve read all of them.
This story takes us to Hannah’s sister’s house for a Christmas party. Some of the guests are family, and some of them are not (Oh dear for them).
While we get to know the members of the party, there are strange goings-on in the background, and when Hannah is left with not one but two mysteries to solve, things start to become more interesting.
As we watch Hannah and her aunt, alongside their two male sidekicks, at work, we’re treated to everything we’d expect from a Golden Age country-house-style murder. (I was somewhat jealous about all the Afternoon Teas they managed to consume.) The mystery is intricately connected to the era of First World War Britain, and the events are believable and enjoyable to read about.
When they come, the conclusions are both satisfying after suspicion has fallen on just about everyone.
As a huge fan of this genre of fiction, I really enjoyed Murder at Midwinter Manor and the glimpse given of a divided society in a single house between servants and masters.
Abandoned by his people and destined for Valhalla, do not stand in the way of his fury.
Ribe is lost, its hall burnt, and Charles is still missing. Sven must once more sail into dangerous waters to rescue his grandson.
King Louis of East Francia, the man who took Sven’s son from him almost twenty years ago, has Charles captive and uses him to force Sven to do his bidding and create chaos raiding his brothers Kingdom of West Frankia.
The long awaited meeting of Charles and his mother, Abbess Hildegard, is not what Charles dreamed it would be and soon it becomes clear that Charles is in even more danger. Torn between the heathen gods and his Christian god, Charles must decide where his future lies.
Sven must fight if he wants to see Charles again and keep the Cross of Charlemagne out of the hands of the Frankish kings. The only thing that Sven knows is that to save Charles, innocent people must die.
Valhalla’s Fury is the final book in the Charlemagne’s Cross Series, bringing to an end this enthralling series set in the 800s, pitching the Danes against the Franks, or certainly, some of them. I’ve read all of the books and you can check out my reviews below.
All seems impossible in this final book as Sven desperately wishes to rescue Charles from the clutches of the Franks, whereas Charles is something of a pawn in the hands of his Frankish grandfather.
The storyline quickly separates Charles and Sven once more, and we see glimpses of life in a Frankish town as well as in a Viking encampment deep in the heart of West Frankia, through the eyes of our two main characters. The narrative builds as the reader is left wondering how on earth the two can possibly be reunited, or if all will end in disaster, I don’t want to say either way, but it is a solid ending for this enthralling tale.
Donovan Cook is the author of the well-received Ormstunga Saga series and the Charlemagne’s Cross series, both of which combine fast-paced narrative with meticulously researched history of the Viking world and are inspired by his interest in Norse Mythology. Donovan was born in South Africa but raised in England.
I’m delighted to welcome D.C.Wilkinson and his new book, Devin’s Dreams, to the blog.
Blurb
Devin Sharp, a gentle-natured boy, has trouble sleeping. Recurring visions of strangers moving among shadows in his bedroom keep waking him at night. He swears that what he sees and hears is real. To no avail. No one believes him. An older sibling taunts him. “Silly dreams,” she says. But are they?
Coming of age as a gay teen in the seventies, Devin’s sleep issues are just one more secret safely locked up in his closet. But not for long. Freshman year in college brings a measure of freedom and a chance to explore well beyond the boundaries of stifling social molds.
Experimenting with a powerful drug, Devin’s quirky visions resurface. This time, however, something is different. A rabbit hole materializes out of nowhere. Thrust into it by a mysterious force, Devin is hurled into another world centuries before his own. There, awaiting, a host of strangers appear to know him…
D. C. Wilkinson’s passion for historical fiction, portal fantasies and cappuccinos inspired him to write “Devin’s Dreams,” his debut novel. A lifelong voyager of inner and outer realms, he began his career in the Midwest as a student of Language Arts and the Humanities before relocating to the East Coast in his early twenties. A graduate of Columbia University and former New York City public school teacher, he now calls Connecticut his home, where he resides with his spouse and their beloved beagle.
Operation Tulip – The Hunger Winter in Holland During WW2
My novel, Operation Tulip, takes place in The Hague in the final year of the Second World War, during the Hunger Winter, called the Hongerwinter in Dutch. This was the brutal famine of 1944-1945 during the final year of the Nazi occupation. The Netherlands was invaded in May 1940, and for the first few years, the occupation was relatively mild compared to other parts of Europe. However, as the war dragged on, conditions for civilians worsened. By 1944, the Allied forces had landed in Normandy and were making their way through Europe, leading to a renewed sense of hope among the Dutch people. In September 1944, the Allies made an ambitious plan to capture key bridges in the Netherlands and pave the way for an invasion of Germany and an end to the war. This plan was called Operation Market Garden, and was made famous by the film, ‘A Bridge Too Far.’ Unfortunately, the operation ultimately failed, leaving the northern and western parts of the Netherlands cut off from the rest of Europe and still under German control.
British POWs at Arnem
Famine bites Dutch railway workers organised strikes to prevent Jews from being deported, and in retaliation the Germans blocked food and fuel shipments to the western provinces. The blockade, combined with already depleted food supplies, led to a catastrophic famine. Added to this, the winter that year was one of the harshest in memory, with freezing temperatures and little fuel available. The black market became the only means for many to obtain food but prices were high and few could afford to buy anything. The daily calorie intake for many Dutch citizens plummeted to as low as 400-800 calories, way below the minimum needed for survival. People scavenged for anything edible, from tulip bulbs to sugar beets. Audrey Hepburn, who was living in Holland with her Dutch mother, survived the last months of the war with a diet that included eating nettles and tulip bulbs.
Dutch Children being fed soup
The impact of the famine on health was devastating. Malnutrition and starvation led to a significant increase in mortality rates. The most vulnerable, including the elderly, the sick, and young children, were particularly affected. Hospitals were overwhelmed with cases of starvation, and diseases such as tuberculosis, typhus, and pneumonia spread rapidly among the weakened population. If it all sounds very depressing, it was also a period where people were courageous and took enormous risks to help other survive. The penalties for hoarding or selling food outside official channels were severe. Nevertheless, many residents of The Hague made perilous journeys by bicycle to rural areas in search of food, and I use these journeys in Operation Tulip. The Role of Women in the Resistance
Dutch Women transporting food
Amid the suffering, the Dutch Resistance, including people like Nancy in my novel, continued their efforts to undermine the German occupation, bring hope to the starving, and assist those in need. Resistance groups, especially the women, organized clandestine food distribution networks, forged ration cards, and provided aid to those most affected by the famine, despite the constant threat of arrest, torture, and execution. Estimates suggest that approximately 20,000 people died as a direct result of the Hunger Winter, although the indirect toll was likely much higher. The most vulnerable, including the elderly, the sick, and young children, were particularly affected. Hospitals were overwhelmed with cases of starvation, and diseases such as tuberculosis, typhus, and pneumonia spread rapidly among the weakened population. Many who survived were left with long-term health problems due to prolonged malnutrition. Children born during or shortly after the Hunger Winter were found to have worse health outcomes throughout their lives, a phenomenon later studied extensively by researchers. As things became desperate at the end of the war, British and American airmen in conjunction with the Dutch Resistance, arranged airdrops of food, an event that still lingers in the memories of the Dutch people.
Operation Manna airdropping food
Here’s the blurb
Holland, 1944: Undercover British agent Nancy Callaghan has been given her toughest case yet. A key member of the Dutch resistance has been captured, and Nancy must play the role of a wealthy Nazi to win over a notorious SS officer, Detlef Keller, and gain crucial information.
England: Coding expert Tom Lockwood is devastated that the Allies have failed to push back the Nazis, leaving Northern Holland completely cut off from the rest of Europe, and him from his beloved Nancy. Desperate to rescue the love of his life, Tom devises Operation Tulip, a plan to bring Nancy home.
But as Nancy infiltrates the Dutch SS, she finds herself catching the eye of an even more senior member of the Party. Is Nancy in too deep, or can Tom reach her before she gets caught?
Inspired by the true events of occupied Holland during WW2, don’t miss this utterly gripping story of love, bravery and sacrifice.
Triggers: mild violence associated with the era.
Praise for Deborah Swift:
‘A well crafted tale… this book did not disappoint’ NetGalley reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
‘There is action, mystery and romantic entanglements stirred into the story for a fantastically entertaining read’ NetGalley reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
‘Deborah Swift never disappoints’ NetGalley reviewer, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Deborah Swift is a USA TODAY bestselling author of twenty books who is passionate about the past. Deborah used to be a costume designer for the BBC, before becoming a writer. Now she lives in an old English school house in a village full of 17th Century houses, near the glorious Lake District. After taking a Masters Degree in Creative Writing, she enjoys mentoring aspiring novelists and has an award-winning historical fiction blog at her website www.deborahswift.com.
Deborah loves to write about how extraordinary events in history have transformed the lives of ordinary people, and how the events of the past can live on in her books and still resonate today.
Recent books include The Poison Keeper, about the Renaissance poisoner Giulia Tofana, which was a winner of the Wishing Shelf Book of the Decade Award, and a Coffee Pot Book Club Gold Medal. Her most recent books are The Silk Code and The Shadow Network both set in the Second World War.
When a pantomime turns deadly, Iris investigates a cast of killers…
Christmas, 1923. When reporter Iris Woodmore is sent to cover the Prince of Wales’ visit to historic Winchester, she discovers more than just royal gossip.
The leading lady in Winchester Cathedral’s charity pantomime is found dead in mysterious circumstances. And the chief suspect is Cinderella’s handsome prince, played by Percy Baverstock’s younger brother, Freddie.
For the sake of the Baverstocks, Iris must investigate the murder, even though it means confronting an old enemy. And as the line between friend and foe blurs dangerously, she’s ensnared by someone she hoped she’d never see again…
Everyone’s favourite amateur sleuth returns for a Christmas mystery, perfect for fans of Verity Bright, Claire Gradidge and Emily Organ.
I love a new Iris Woodmore 1920s mystery, and A Corpse in Christmas Close is as well-plotted and deeply grounded in the historical events of the day as the previous books in the series.
Iris is a great main character. She is tenacious and outspoken, aware of society’s conventions but often keen to ignore them. She and her fellow cast members are all well-drawn and believable.
I almost always determine how much I love a mystery by whether I work out the culprit or not, and once more, I was caught out by the resolution for A Corpse in Christmas Close.
The pacing is great. I’m looking forward to Iris’ next adventure.
Michelle Salter writes historical cosy crime set in Hampshire, where she lives, and inspired by real-life events in 1920s Britain. Her Iris Woodmore series draws on an interest in the aftermath of the Great War and the suffragette movement.
I’m delighted to welcome A.M.Swink and her new book, Venator from the Roman Equestrian Series, to the blog with an excerpt.
Excerpt
Excerpt 5:
‘There we are.’ Julianus Titianus pushed Livius away as soon as he’d poured the wine. He lifted his glass at Decimus. ‘Your health, Centurion.’
Decimus begrudgingly sipped his drink. With a grunt, he leant forward and slammed his beaker back on the tribune’s marble table. ‘What do you want, Titianus?’
‘My, my! So very direct!’ The tribune chuckled, narrowing his beady eyes at the centurion over the rim of his glass. ‘Not even a word of thanks for your gracious host?’
‘I’m not fond of lies. They tend to stick in my throat.’ Decimus scowled.
He glanced around uncomfortably at his surroundings. Though as primus pilus he’d spent long hours in the war room discussing campaign strategies with the legate, Decimus had never felt entirely at ease within the ornate praetorium. The high, vaulted ceilings, painted walls, and mosaic floors seemed far too excessive for his tastes. Did all men of such high rank have to make their homes in opulent palaces?
He shuddered. Perhaps he wasn’t cut out for belonging to the equestrian class.
Across the table, Titianus sat before a mural depicting Pluto leading Proserpina into Hades; the mouth of the cave to the underworld loomed directly behind the tribune’s head. ‘Words were never your strong suit, were they, Maximus?’ Titianus smirked. ‘You’ve always been a man of action.’
‘Get to your point!’ Decimus barked, sitting on the edge of his chair.
‘So impatient!’ Titianus reclined against the back of his seat and tutted softly. ‘I do hope you aren’t considering the mercantile trade when you leave the army, old boy. You’re a pretty poor negotiator.’
‘Luckily enough, Tribune, I have no plans of the sort.’
‘Oh, really?’ Titianus coolly pulled out a tool to begin picking at imagined flecks of dirt beneath his spotless fingernails. ‘I thought I’d been reliably informed you plan to spend your retirement in the capital.’
Decimus shifted in his seat uncomfortably. ‘And why is it any of your concern?’
‘Just wondering if our paths shall cross again.’ Titianus smirked. ‘I’ll be heading back to pursue a quaestorship come spring. And my promotion is assured. I don’t have to bother telling you who my connections are. Let’s just say that I would be quite the valuable ally or quite the powerful enemy.’
‘Your connections are too rich for my blood; I think I’ll remain neutral.’
‘I hardly think you can value neutrality when it comes to me, Centurion.’
Decimus impatiently drummed his fingers on the table. ‘You know nothing about the business that interests me,’ he said at last.
‘Hmm…’ Titianus pretended to mull over Decimus’s words. ‘I don’t know about that. I do know that if you want to breed nags for the imperial army, you’re going to need a contract. One taken out with the palace.’
Decimus abruptly stopped drumming his fingers. He eyed the tribune suspiciously. ‘And?’
‘Well, I’m hardly one to brag, but…I do have friends in high places.’ Titianus shrugged. ‘Ones that have the ability to push for or against the success of such a petition.’
Decimus felt a cool chill from the smile Titianus gave him. He forced himself to bark out a laugh. ‘You’re bluffing.’
Titianus picked up his beaker and idly swirled its contents. ‘Find out at your peril, Centurion.’
‘I value my time, Tribune. And you are wasting it.’ Decimus pushed his chair back and stood.
‘Hold on!’ A note of alarm entered Titianus’s voice. He lifted a hand in protest. ‘Aren’t you curious as to what I’ve got to say?’
‘No.’ Decimus picked his helmet off the table and turned to leave. ‘I’ve played in this little farce for long enough!’
‘It concerns the princess.’
Decimus froze. His tongue darted out to wet his dry lips. ‘What about her?’
Titianus gestured to the vacant seat. He smiled as the centurion reluctantly sat back down. ‘Good, good. Now, let’s discuss this properly.’ He linked his fingers together on the tabletop, twiddling his soft, doughy thumbs. ‘I understand from our quartermaster that you purchased the princess from the legion two months ago for the sum of five hundred denarii. Is that correct?’
Decimus curtly nodded.
Titianus met the centurion’s gaze. He paused for a long moment, leaning over the table. ‘I’ll give you a thousand denarii for her.’
‘I’m sorry, Tribune.’ Decimus quickly stood again. ‘My slave is not for sale.’
‘Twelve hundred denarii!’
‘Not for that price. Not for any price.’ He clapped his helmet back on his head and began making his way towards the door.
Titianus stood and followed him down the hall. ‘Fifteen hundred denarii!’
‘At any price, Tribune!’ Decimus called warningly, refusing to break stride.
‘All right, all right!’ Titianus grabbed at the centurion’s shoulder. Decimus halted and whirled around to face him with a snarl. The tribune backed away, holding his hands up defensively. ‘Eighteen hundred denarii for one night. Just one night with her. Otherwise, she’s yours. Eighteen hundred denarii. One night. My final offer.’
Decimus’s face darkened. He loomed over the cowering tribune and grabbed hold of his neckerchief. ‘Do I look like a pimp to you?’
‘I…I just…’ Titianus choked.
‘Do I look like a pimp to you?!’ Decimus shook Titianus, lifting him onto his toes. With a contemptuous grunt, he tossed him onto the tiled floor. The man skidded roughly against the tesserae before slowing to a halt before his gilded lararium.
‘Stay away from my property, Tribune. Consider this your final warning.’ Decimus turned and stalked out the door.
Livius materialised in the hall and hastened to his master’s side.
‘Get off!’ Titianus kicked at Livius when the slave stooped to help him up. He panted, lifting his head to watch the centurion march away towards the barracks. Hate glistened in his beady dark eyes.
Blurb
Britannia, AD 59. Decimus is a long-serving senior centurion who dreams of retirement in Rome. Luciana is a Cornovii princess devoted to the freedom and survival of her tribe. Connected only by a passion for horsemanship, the pair could not be more ill-matched. After a deadly conflict thrusts these enemies together, each is determined to fight their desires and triumph over the other. Who will ultimately control the other’s heart?
But Decimus and Luciana are not the only ones on the hunt for supremacy; a desperate struggle over the province is beginning to simmer to a boil. There are whispers of mysterious Druids fomenting unrest among the western British tribes, whose inter-tribal divisions threaten to subsume them. The future of the Roman legions in the province is suddenly thrown into doubt as casualties begin to mount. Decimus and Luciana find themselves entangled within a web of characters, Briton and Roman, playing with Britannia’s destiny to serve their own ends.
The hunt for power is on, where only one side can emerge triumphant. But just who among these hunters will end up hunted?
A native of Dayton, Ohio, A.M. Swink grew up obsessed with two things: books and horses. After a childhood of reading, writing, showing, and riding, she moved to Lexington, Kentucky to complete a degree in equine science and management and a degree in English literary studies. She now works in Lexington as a college professor of reading and writing. In her spare time, she has travelled extensively around the UK and Ireland, exploring ancient sites and artefacts, as well as tracing her own ancestry. She is proud to be descended from County Cork’s Callaghan clan.
When not writing, she can be found collecting and showing model horses or enjoying her favourite British comedy programmes.
Setting for The Custard Corpses, my first foray into historical mysteries
The Custard Corpses is set during the 1920s, 1930s and 1940s. I wanted to make the book as authentic as possible, even though I’m not a historian of that time period. When I was first studying history at school, I always found it strange to think of it as history as I had grandparents who had lived through the 1920s, 1930s and 1940s (my old granny was born in 1901, my mother’s parents in 1920 and my father’s parents in 1926 and 1928). That’s probably why I’ve never written about the period before.
Getting the names right
I wanted to ensure I was using names and places that existed at the time, and I didn’t want to inadvertently make any silly mistakes – a few beta readers pointed out I was using metric measurements, when they should have been imperial in the 1940s. They thought it was sweet that I’d never known the world of imperial numbers (and money).
Maps and train routes
So, I spent quite a bit of time hunting down random facts; maps of the time period, tram and train routes (which you can find online, but I had some old maps), pictures of cars, police uniforms at the time, advertisements of the time and also editions of the Picture Post magazine. At one point, I wanted a celebrity scandal, and there it was, on the cover of a magazine.
Map of Erdington from the era
Newspaper Archives
I was amazed by the information that I could find by accessing archives ( and also that which I couldn’t find), and I was especially impressed by the ‘history’ section on the Birmingham.gov website, and by those local newspapers that have archives available online – such as the Inverness newspaper and the Birmingham Mail. There’s also a whole aerial photo website that I could have used, but I couldn’t quite work it out.
Family memories
I was also lucky in that I set the book somewhere I have childhood memories of, and also that a family member spent their early years in Erdington. It was funny to realise the parts that they especially remembered – such as the fact that some of the buses were still open-topped at the time, and the liveries that buses were decorated with. The Birmingham that I remember is very different to the one that exists now, and the one that existed in the 1940s. My memories of Birmingham consist of the dodgy car park we used, the train journey we used to take in the old carriages with individual doors (they were old in my day) and shopping for jeans.
I also made some use of the 1911 census records, and the Office for National Statistics spreadsheet which lists all the most popular names in decades. It made it easy to devise names for the characters. It also helped that while the 1940s is ‘history’ it’s much more relatable to me than the period before 1066, when I usually set my stories, so provided I didn’t use the internet in the story itself (and only as a research tool), or refer to cms, it was just about authentic, I hope. And did allow for the use of cars and telephones.
The inspiration behind The Custard Corpses #histfic #mystery
The inspiration behind The Custard Corpses is a bit weird, even I admit that
My father had, for many years, bought and sold antique paraphernalia, mostly maps, but also other items as well – books, stamps, old vellum deeds, postcards – you get the idea. With the restrictions during Lockdown, he wasn’t able to sell as normal at his antique fairs, and having put off having an online presence, he finally decided to open an eBay shop – but needed tech support. And so, as ‘tech support’, he started sending me all sorts of fascinating items to list, but the one that really got my attention were the advertisements that ran in the Picture Post magazines for Bird’s Custard.
They’re bright, they’re inviting, they are, to put it bluntly, before their time. They have lovely catchphrases, such as ‘every little helps’ which Tesco use now. The black and white images on the coloured background ensure the readers eye is drawn to the happy child, and they do make you want to eat custard.
I wanted to share them with as many people as possible so that they could catch a glimpse of these old campaigns. There were other advertisements as well in the magazines, ones for Pepsi and for Shell, to name a few, but it was the Bird’s Custard ones that really captured my imagination. But how could I share them with people?
Well, my mind works in strange ways, and I began to consider a mystery that would somehow be relevant to the advertisements, so it needed to be set during the period the Picture Post magazine was produced from 1938 to the 1950s. And so, The Custard Corpses.
I set The Custard Corpses during the Second World War, but that was really because it fit with the adverts I’d seen, the added bonus that I could then use the well-known events of the war was a secondary consideration.
Where I set the book was entirely based on the fact that I had family members who’d lived in Erdington at the time. I was able to pick the brains of my Dad for the little details that I didn’t know or couldn’t remember, not that he was born in 1943, but not long after.
It was all quite random, in the end, and there was a swell of little details that I uncovered that just, through pure happenstance, fitted together. It helped that I wanted to try my hand at something more modern than the eleventh century, but still historical. But I’m not an expert on any other time period, so I suppose it was an easy choice to decide on a setting that was just within living memory of some. I couldn’t visit anywhere due to Lockdown, so familiar was best.
Is this the weirdest reason to have written a book?
Buy The Custard Corpses here, available in ebook, paperback, hardback and audio. Or, check out the signed editions page to get a copy directly from me. Book 3, The Secret Sauce, is available now, (as is book 2, The Automobile Assassination), and the Barrage Body is coming very soon.
I’m delighted to share an excerpt from Legacy of the Ruins
The heroine, Freydis, aged 10, is being sent away to live with relatives against her will and her mother doesn’t seem to care about her wishes:-
Freydis jumped over the gunwale easily and sat down on her chest of belongings, which must have been loaded earlier. She knew it was hers because it had her name carved in runes on the lid. Reading and writing was a skill her late father had taught her, and she was proud of her proficiency. She also knew how to count and haggle for goods to best advantage. Perhaps one day this would come in useful. She lifted a hand to wave at her mother, schooling her features into an expression of calm acceptance, directly at odds with how she was feeling. ‘Farewell, Mother.’ Dagrun nodded. ‘May the gods go with you.’ Then she turned and walked up the path without waiting for the ship to cast off. Freydis swallowed hard several times, but turned her head away so that no one would see. It hurt that her mother could dismiss her so easily, but they had never been close. Dagrun had despaired of her unwillingness to learn female tasks, and had often bemoaned the fact that she was allowed to run wild. It was something her parents had never seen eye to eye on, but now it was a moot point. Her hands were shaking and she buried them in the folds of the smokkr her mother had forced her to wear. Underneath, she had on the tunic and trousers she was usually dressed in, which were more practical. As soon as the ship had moved out of sight of the settlement, she pulled the overdress off. She glanced defiantly at Joalf as she began to fold it, then stood up to place it in her kist. ‘You have something against women’s garments?’ the big man asked mildly, one eyebrow quirking up. He looked amused rather than annoyed. ‘Yes. My father raised me to be a fighter, not a girl. I cannot do that in skirts.’ Joalf nodded. ‘Fair enough.’ With those two words, Freydis knew she had found a friend. Perhaps life with her mother’s cousin would not be so bad after all. She would bide her time until she could return. Hopefully that would not be too long.
Here’s the blurb
A bond that even time cannot break
Storm Berger has never forgiven himself for his younger sister Madison’s disappearance. Suspecting she’s travelled back to the ninth century in the footsteps of other family members, Storm can only make sure she’s safe by going after her.
Raised unconventionally as her father’s only child, Freydis has never been content to simply accept her fate. So, when she’s promised in marriage to a tyrant, she’s determined to find a way out of the arrangement. Help comes in the form of a mysterious and attractive stranger stranded on her island’s shores: Storm.
The only way Freydis can truly be free is for Storm to marry her himself. But that would mean entwining lives that, until now, have been separated by centuries. . .
Christina Courtenay writes historical romance, time slip/dual time and time travel stories, and lives in Herefordshire (near the Welsh border) in the UK. Although born in England, she has a Swedish mother and was brought up in Sweden – hence her abiding interest in the Vikings. Christina is a Vice President and former Chair of the UK’s Romantic Novelists’ Association and has won several awards, including the RoNA for Best Historical Romantic Novel twice with Highland Storms (2012) and The Gilded Fan (2014) and the RNA Fantasy Romantic Novel of the year 2021 with Echoes of the Runes. LEGACY OF THE RUNES (time travel historical romance published by Headline Review 15th August 2024) is her latest novel. Christina is a keen amateur genealogist and loves history and archaeology (the armchair variety).
I’m welcoming Susan D Levitte to the blog with an excerpt from her new book, The Secrets in the Woods, 1871Fire #PeshtigoFire #WIHistory #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub
It’s happy release day to Lords of Iron, the third and concluding book in the Dark Age Chronicles Trilogy. Let’s talk about battle standards #newrelease…
I’m delighted to welcome A.M.Swink and her new book, Gradarius, to the blog with a fab excerpt #romanequestrian #romanequestrianseries #gradarius #ancienthistoricalfiction #romanfiction #equestrianfiction #boudicca
SHE STRUGGLES AGAINST HER ENEMIES. BUT STILL, THEY STAND IN HER WAY. In 14th century England, Meg of St. Michael’s Mead endures a life of abuse and isolation due to her birth deformity. After witnessing a shocking birth, Meg discovers her true purpose: to become England’s first licensed female physician and provide compassionate care to women.
To achieve her goal, Meg seeks the tutelage of William of Oxford, a gruff surgeon who agrees to mentor her. But there’s a catch. She must keep a secret—William and his son Gerard are performing illegal human dissections—and she must assist them. As Gerard and Meg work together, their feelings for each other deepen.
Amidst a civil war, Meg makes an enemy of the Queen, who accuses her of treason. Forced to flee to Montpellier, France, Meg tries to enter medical school, only to be met with resistance. She is told to marry, stay at home, and please her husband. Meg refuses to conform. When a deadly epidemic breaks out in Montpellier, Meg has one last chance to prove herself, but at the risk of losing Gerard.
A story of one woman’s courage and persistence, this captivating tale follows Meg’s arduous journey of overcoming prejudice and adversity as she battles societal expectations amidst the specter of a lethal epidemic.
The Solitary Sparrow by Lorraine Norwood and narrated by Tracy Russell is a wonderfully atmospheric story of the fourteenth century, following Meg as she attempts to fulfil her hopes and dreams following a difficult childhood.
It does not shy away from describing some quite graphic medical conditions, but voiced by our narrator, the reader can only be enthralled and absolutely fascinated, as events unfold for Meg. Indeed, I was hooked by the end of the first chapter.
It’s such a fascinating story, stuffed with medical knowledge of the era and sure to enthrall readers, even if the topics are not always the most pleasant. An absolute delight.
Meet the author
Lorraine Norwood was a professional journalist for over 20 years, working in print and television journalism. Her lifelong interest in archaeology led her to change careers at midlife and earn a master’s degree in medieval archaeology from the University of York in York, England. When she returned to the U.S., she worked in archaeology and historic preservation for a number of years but is now happily writing full-time. She has participated in excavations in the UK including many in York, her favorite city. The Solitary Sparrow is her first novel, the first in a series titled The Margaret Chronicles. She is working on the sequel, A Pelican in the Wilderness. The series is set in 14th century England and France. Lorraine is a member of the Women’s Fiction Writers Association and the Historical Novel Society. She is a certified book coach and a developmental editor and loves mentoring new writers. She lives with an old Lab who follows her everywhere and a grumpy old cat who doesn’t care what the human does as long as he has food in his bowl. Lorraine lives in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina.
MJ Porter 