Writing – Page 44 – JO LAMBERT

BROOK COTTAGE BOOKS – BLOG TOUR FOR DRUMBEATS 8th – 19th September, 2014

Posted on September 17, 2014September 17, 2014 by Jo Lambert - Author

First can I say many thanks to the author for sending me a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review as part of the Drumbeats Book Tour

My Review

Reading the synopsis for Drumbeats my first thought was that this is not my usual choice of book. However although I have definite preferences when I’m buying, I’m generally pretty eclectic in my taste and can very often be persuaded to step outside my comfort zone and try something completely different. If anything drew me to this novel it had to be the beautiful cover and I do think if I was not doing a professional review it probably would have played a big part in influencing me to buy.

The synopsis for Drumbeats gave all the indications of an interesting read. What I had not anticipated, however, was the wonderful quality of the writing. It’s a brilliantly crafted book where sights, sounds and even smells of the Ghanaian way of life are conjured up quite vividly. In some novels details can slow up the story and bog the reader down. In this book it feels right, woven so well into the fabric of the story it becomes an essential part of the read.

It is 1965. Jess is an 18 year old about to embark on a university career. However she decides first she will take a gap year and work abroad. Her parents are strict Quakers who cannot understand and don’t really approve of what she wants to do. Nevertheless she embarks on this year out of the UK to teach in a Ghanaian school. As well as a chance to experience life in foreign country it’s also an escape from a strict and somewhat oppressive home life. Through the writer we get a wonderful feel for this very different way of life in Africa and how Jess copes with living in a hot country whose culture is so unlike her own. Back in England is boyfriend Simon, already at university and they correspond regularly. She misses him and has bouts of homesickness but soon gets distracted by her new life as a teacher. When two Americans, Jim and Hank arrive as part of the Peace Corps based in Accra Jess finds herself befriending Jim. Dark and good looking the young intern is here to volunteer his skills after which he plans to return to his medical studies in the US. Jess and Jim grow closer through their mutual love of music and his assistance at the two villages she regularly visits. Although she is aware of an attraction developing between them she is determined to stay faithful to Simon.

The story moves steadily through the year; school life, Jess’s friendship with the other young women teachers and her pupils and an eventful Christmas road trip they take to Timbuctoo. As the relationship between Jess and Jim progresses his actions and absences make her suspicious that he might be involved in something far deeper than volunteering. When they are both caught up a coup which overthrows the President she finds herself in a situation which eventually leads to her betrayal of the faithful Simon. Afterwards Jim asks her to return to the States with him and Jess has to make a difficult decision about the direction she wants her life to take. Should she go with Jim or return to Simon?

I won’t take the story any further, only to say there are some interesting twists and turns before we finish plus an ending which leaves the door open for the next book. If I have one criticism it’s that book two is not yet available. Personally I can’t wait to continue Jess’s journey. A brilliant read and a well deserved five stars.

Published July 2014

Drumbeats: can you ever escape your past?

Drumbeats is the first novel in a trilogy and follows 18 year old English student Jess through her gap year in West Africa. It’s a rite of passage novel set in the mid-1960s when Jess flees her stifling home background for freedom to become a volunteer teacher and nurse in the Ghanaian bush. Apprehensively, she leaves her first real romantic love behind in the UK, but will she be able to sustain the bond while she is away? With the idealism of youth, she hopes to find out who she really is and do some good in the world, but little does she realize what, in reality, she will find that year: joys, horrors, and tragedy. She must find her way on her own and learn what fate has in store for her, as she becomes embroiled in the poverty and turmoil of a small war-torn African nation under a controversial dictatorship. Jess must face the dangers of both civil war and unexpected romance. Can she escape her past? And why do the drumbeats haunt her dreams?

Drumbeats Trilogy:

Drumbeats

Can you ever escape your past?

Walking in the Rain

How do you cope when your worst nightmare comes true?

Before I Die

Can Jess’s bucket list bring resolution to her life?

Excerpt

August 1965, Ghana

It was hotter than Jess had ever imagined in her eighteen years. Flying in from the UK bound for Accra, she had left the late August skies of the dull wet dreariness of an English summer. But as she stepped off the Ghana Airways VC10, she felt the heavy all-encompassing heat which shocked her system. Although it was only six o’clock in the evening, it was already dark and close.

The flight from London Heathrow had been a long and tiresome six hours and she had felt drained as she pulled down her cabin bag from the overhead and shuffled along the aisle behind the other travellers, nodding and swaying to the strains of the Beatles’ “Ticket to Ride” on the VC10’s tannoy system. Her mother would have a fit: her Rulebook said no pop music; it’s the work of the devil, and no dancing: Jessamy, anyone would think you were a slut. So in the holidays, when she was home from boarding school, she’d listened to Pick of the Pops furtively in her bedroom, ear pressed to the radio.

Now, as she climbed down the steps in the heat-stifling darkness to take her first stride on African soil, she was recharged with excitement.

She was aware of the male flight attendant standing at the foot of the aircraft’s steps, watching her with undisguised admiration as she climbed down. She navigated the steps as gracefully as she could in her tan wedge-heeled sandals. In the heat, she was glad that she had thought to scoop up her auburn-gold hair loosely into a ponytail. She let go of the rail with her left hand for a moment to smooth her pale pink cotton mini dress over her slim figure. At least she wasn’t irritable and demanding like the other passengers who pushed behind her as if they were in a great hurry.

The flight attendant watched her all the way down the steps and then wiped his palm on his trousers, and held it out courteously to steady her from the last step. She took it in her own cool soft hand for a brief moment.

“Thank you so much, John. Bye now,” she smiled as she passed him and headed for the small wooden shack that served as an airport building.

“No problem, miss. Welcome to Ghana.”

“How did you know his name?” hissed Sandra, from behind her. Jess turned. She noticed that John did not take Sandra’s hand. His eyes and grin were still focussed on her.

“It’s on his name label,” whispered Jess. They walked together across to the arrivals building. “OK?”

“OK. Long flight. Tired,” answered Sandra curtly. She had been unusually quiet during the flight and, it seemed, almost close to tears on occasion. Jess put her free hand on Sandra’s arm.

“It’ll be fine. Honestly. I know you’re missing Colin.” In the short time Jess had with Sandra after they were teamed up to travel to the same school in Ghana for their gap years, she had learned all about the chap Sandra was leaving behind for a year. Sandra showed her a photograph. Oh dear, he looked a lot like Maurie. Not fanciable. AT. ALL! She herself had said little about her own personal life, and the guy she had left behind. She wanted to keep him to herself. Her first real grown-up relationship. Simon. His name still tasted so new on her lips and in her head. Had she done the right thing in dutifully fulfilling the contract to come out here, even though they had only just got together? Would he wait for her? They were an item, weren’t they? She frowned and bit her lip.

To win an e-copy (International) of Drumbeats click and register on the rafflecopter tag below

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/4be030177/

About the Author

Julia Ibbotson lives in a renovated Victorian rectory in the English countryside with her husband (four children, now grown up, having fled the nest), along with lots of apple trees, a kitchen garden and far too many moles. She is an author and academic, and loves choral singing, walking, swimming, gardening and cooking (not necessarily at the same time). She started writing as soon as she could hold a pencil in her tiny fist and has not stopped since, much to the bemusement of her long-suffering husband who brings her endless cups of coffee and sometimes even makes the dinner when she is distracted and frowning at her laptop.

She wrote her first novel when she was 10 years old, sadly never published and long since consigned to the manuscript graveyard. She loves writing novels with a strong sense of time and place and that is the basis of her latest, Drumbeats, the first of a trilogy which follows Jess through the trials and tribulations of her life. It starts with Jess on her gap year in Ghana in the 1960s.

She has also written the story of the restoration of her rectory in The Old Rectory: Escape to a Country Kitchen, which also interweaves recipes from her farmhouse kitchen and which has won a number of international awards.

Recently she found an old manuscript gathering dust in her drawer, one she had originally scribbled when she was still at school, many years ago. It was a children’s story about a boy who slips through a tear in the fabric of the universe to find himself in a fantasy medieval world. She is currently blowing off the dust and redrafting it for her publishers to let it loose on the world in the autumn. It’s called S.C.A.R.S.

She loves to hear from readers (it’s a pleasant distraction from her steaming keyboard), so do get in touch via the links.

Author Links

Author page on Amazon:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Julia-Ibbotson/e/B0095XG11U/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1377188346&sr=1-2-ent

Author email:

juliaibbotson@btinternet.com

Author facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Julia-Ibbotson-author/163085897119236

Twitter:

https://twitter.com/JuliaIbbotson

Author website:

http://www.juliaibbotsonauthor.com

Pinterest page:

http://pinterest.com/juliai1/

Goodreads author page:

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6017965.Julia_Ibbotson

Book Trailer

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2OYlEXhHvsc&list=UUP3hKZjeUBuTMoyvZmBXbow

Writing

BROOK COTTAGE BOOKS BLOG TOUR FOR REKINDLING CONNECTIONS

Posted on September 11, 2014September 10, 2014 by Jo Lambert - Author

Rekindling Connections
by Nicky Abell-Francis
Published by Self-published on 14th April 2014
Pages: 369
• Goodreads • Amazon UK • Amazon US •

Many thanks to the author for sending me a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review as part of the Rekindling Connections Book Tour

MY REVIEW

When I post a review it’s normally for something I have either downloaded on Kindle or pulled from the shelves of Waterstones. It’s my choice. With blog tours I get to chose a category but know nothing about the book I shall be reading and reviewing until all the relevant information comes through. I have to say though that so far I have not been disappointed and Rekindling Connections has further reinforced that opinion. In fact I loved everything about this book.  A wonderful cover, a great story and a teaser at the finish to alert us to the fact we have by no means reached the end of the journey.

I loved the relationship between Zara and her three friends, Bella, Amber and Gina. All three became an integral part of the story as it progressed. And then of course there were the men. Zara’s husband-to-be Bruce Loxley – good looking, rich and dependable but with a definite feel he was not quite all he seemed. Then there was Tyler Montgomery – well at least you knew what you were getting here. Handsome,  egotistical and heartless Zara still seemed unable to resist this incredibly handsome polo player. And last but not least Brett McNeil.  Now Brett is the one with my vote. He may disappear and reappear in Zara’s life as he chases his dream but he’s an honest all round good guy and there’s that indefinable something  that surfaces between them every time they meet. However what will happen now Zara has decided her future lies with Bruce?

So where does this leave the reader at the end of the book? Well waiting for the sequel of course! A brilliant and entertaining read and worthy of all five stars I’m awarding it when I post my reviews on Amazon and Goodreads.

SYNOPSIS

The high octane world of sports therapy fast tracks Zara from middle class suburbia to the bright lights of Los Angeles. Approaching marriage to Bruce Loxley, dependable, seriously rich & with an impeccable pedigree, allows her entrance to the private world of high society.

But is Bruce as honest as appearances portray? Returning to Zara’s hedonistic past, we career into lust & temptation head on in the form of Tyler Montgomery. The devilishly good looking, though arrogant Polo player, causing sexual havoc in his wake. But a when a new younger competitor enters the love arena, has Zara met her match? Brett McNeil with his wild sense of adventure & mischievous streak that so attracts Zara’s eye lingers seductively in the shadows of her fast paced life.

Is fate in control or do we really have a choice? Which player will ultimately win? Or does life have its own game plan?

A BITTERSWEET JOURNEY OF LUST, LOVE & CHOICES.

POWER, PASSION OR PRESTIGE. WHICH LOVE IS THE RIGHT LOVE?

A muffled groaning sound came from the far end of the hotel suite. Busy street life outside seeped through into the dimly lit interior. Across the queen sized bed lay two figures forming soft undulating mounds beneath the bed sheets. A shrill siren broke the quietness of the bedroom.

‘Gee, what did I do last night?’ murmured the fragile voice of Zara, the sound causing the body beside her to stir. Leaning back on the feather pillows her brain tried hard to recollect the last twenty four hours. For one awful moment she froze registering that she wasn’t alone. Hesitatingly, she glanced sideways at the slumbering form. Deep and heavy breathing could be heard from beneath the covers. Turning, rather cautiously Zara peeked over the top of the white bed linen.

‘Oh, my god,’ there she was naked and in bed with a complete stranger. No tiny recollection of how they’d met, or what the hell she’d done with him for that matter. What would the girls think of her? It wasn’t worth imagining what Bruce would think if he found out. Zara noticed her strewn clothing on the floor nearby. How to retrieve them was going to be some feat in itself without disturbing her unknown visitor.

The bedtime occupant grunted and turned. Stretching out a limb, he slammed a heavy thigh across Zara’s body. Gritting her teeth and sucking air through them she now laid pinned to the bed. How was she supposed to move now? First disentanglement without waking the stranger and; second allow herself to get suitably clothed before he came round.

Surveying the room, her head throbbed with the effort. A vague recognition flashed through her brain cells of some heavy alcohol consumption the previous night. Zara detected the faint sound of running water from the en-suite. Her throat was now feeling parched. The joys of a large glass of cold liquid were enticing her to attempt moving pretty quickly.

Looking back over the young male who lay sprawled across her bed, she viewed his athletic body. He lay perfectly still and quiet in the hazy light of the hotel room, chest moving rhythmically, the gentle arch of his back just visible above the covers. He appeared young, mid- twenties maybe. A shadow of morning stubble enhanced his dishevelled appearance. Trying hard to recharge her memory of where they’d met, Zara rubbed her temples gently in the hope this would miraculously help. No, it wasn’t there. What in hell had she drunk last night?

Glancing around the dimly lit room Zara noticed discarded items randomly littering the floor, accompanied by two half-drunk bottles of Champagne. Hawaiian garlands decorated the table lamps either side of the bed.

From the bedside table she picked up a tumbler containing what looked like a cocktail. She sniffed gingerly. The strong smell of mixed spirits confirmed her opinion and a nauseating wave came over her. Once it passed, she noticed there were four tumblers, not just two.

Uneasiness crept over her as the possibility she may have got up close and personal with more than one member of the opposite sex flashed in front of her. No, Gina wouldn’t have allowed her to stoop that low. She had more decorum than that, even if this was possibly her last major weekend of freedom. Gently tried to manoeuvre her body round and slide free from under the comatose individual. The movement started to arouse the stranger once again as the gentle touch of his hand brushed past her shoulder. Turning back to look, she met the glazed eyes of her finally semi-awake neighbour. Bleary eyed, he ran a hand through his dishevelled hair.

‘Urrg, what time is it? That was one great party last night; you girls know how to have a wild time. Thanks for letting me crash. I certainly won’t forget you two in a hurry.’ Zara flushed and gulped.

‘Err!’ Slightly stunned and unable to say much, she felt even more anxious. Blinking hard, she tried to obtain a little distance. By shifting furtively towards the edge of the bed, now that his weight was no longer pinning her down.

The cascading sound of water stopped and shortly after, the en-suite door opened. Swivelling round like an electric bolt had hit her, Zara stared at the emerging figure in the half light, unsure of who to expect. It was Crystal!

‘Hello gorgeous, glad you’re awake.’ Zara looked indignantly at her, trying hard to indicate discreetly her concern without letting the dozy Prince Charming next to her notice what she was doing. Raising her eyebrows and gesturing towards him, she mouthed to Crystal silently.

‘Who is he?’

Crystal giggled coyly as she sat down on the bed, her towel barely covering her vital statistics.

‘This is Christian.’

Zara noticed that Christian suddenly looked rather perkier when he saw Crystal’s body perched rather provocatively at his feet.

‘We had rather a wild night and all of us ended up back here.’

‘All of us! But I was sharing with Gina. You were with Amber and Bella. What happened to them? How many more party goers were there?’

Crystal smiled, ‘Just Christian and Lance. Our group couldn’t take the pace. You, me and Christian carried on till later, hence the pounding headache you’re probably enduring? Lance escorted the others back to their room. Gina must have decided to join them. Not sure what happened to him, but we had a hell of a time back here.’

Zara shot a very worrying look at Crystal. Whispering as quietly as she could she felt the urge to ask the dreaded question?

‘Tell me we didn’t? Tell me I didn’t at least?’ Crystal leant forward her towel revealing more than just a cleavage. Distracting the worse for wear bed fellow from listening too closely, she whispered in Zara’s ear.

‘No honey, you didn’t. Christian had the desire in him and tried his best to seduce you, but the poor sweetie had drunk way too much rum punch. Besides you weren’t having any of it. He didn’t stand a chance.’

Zara fell back against the pillows unsure whether to be relieved or concerned. ‘Oh great, thanks Crystal.’

Christian now had sufficiently woken enough and after viewing the delights of Crystal at such a close up range, he now had experienced a shot of adrenaline to allow him to carry on where apparently they’d left off the night before.

‘Ladies, what do you say, recuperation is always better with the hair of the dog. Fancy joining me for one more bevy?’ He lusted longingly in Crystal’s direction. Christian was now recuperating from the punch a tad too quickly for Zara’s preference.

‘No! You can count me out. Fresh air and a strong shot of New York caffeine is in order now I fear. Don’t let me stop you two,’ replied Zara sharply. Sliding swiftly from beneath the covers she backed out of harm’s way. Grabbing a garment from the floor, she walked as discreetly as she could towards the en-suite door.

‘I’ll just freshen up and be out of your way.’ This parting shot was directed at Christian his face looking a little disappointed at her retreating exit.

FOR A GIVEAWAY of one Paperback book via Rafflecopter. International, Canada, UK USA.  Click below:

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Working in the sports therapy field for some fifteen years the opportunity to work in some diverse areas came about and led to the meeting of some very competitive, challenging individuals, who make up the sporting world. Current affairs of the heart of many women today allowed me to see that we all search for the perfect soul partner. Both male and female clients produced this result, from many a conversation and gossip on the bench, (massage work relaxes the body as well as the mind). Clients worldwide found choosing their ideal partner a lottery.

This inspired me to look more closely at how marriage choices are made through the heart or the mind. Having travelled round the world my research led me to be inspired by the excitement of each country visited and how my heroine could become incorporated within these settings combining the sporting calendar and outdoor pursuits of each destination I found exciting and that created a passion within.

AUTHOR LINKS

http://www.zenchi-therapy.co.uk/rekindling-connections/

https://www.facebook.com/rekindlingconnections?ref=hl

https://twitter.com/nabellfrancis

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7138687.Nicky_Abell_Francis

https://nickyabell.wordpress.com/

Writing

A QUICK HELLO AND SOME NEWS ABOUT AN ON-LINE PARTY…

Posted on August 17, 2014August 17, 2014 by Jo Lambert - Author

JL-All-Books I’ve missed several weekend posts since returning from our week away in Derbyshire. Mostly this has been because I’ve been busy settling back down to writing. It’s not a predictable art, you can’t say ‘Today I’m going to….’ because sometimes you can spend all day at the computer and finish feeling you have achieved very little. Other days you are on a roll and manage several thousand words which really move the book on. This week it’s been a bit of a stop-go few days but am pleased to say currently the muse is with me and things are going very well.

Anyway, enough about me. This week I’m hosting fellow author Lynda Renham who has a launch party for her new book Rory’s Proposal today, Sunday 17th August.

The online launch party which starts at 13.00 and finishes at 20.00 has lots of prizes and signed books, including ‘Rory’s Proposal’ and giveaways from Soap-Dodger whose products are just fab. Signed books by Debbie Flint and Tina K Burton. Also talking part are Sue Watson Carlie Pettit and Mandy Baggot. Also Emily Harvale and Jo Lambert as well as Colette Caddle and Rowan Coleman

Click on this link and join the party https://www.facebook.com/events/732774373455840/?fref=ts

When 29-year-old Flora Robson reversed her car into Tom’s Audi she had no idea who he was. Only after she has started to fall in love with him does she discover the gorgeous blue-eyed Tom is the man who is trying to close down her hairdressing business. It seems that Tom will stop at nothing to get what he wants, but Flora is not giving in to anyone. Can she win the battle against her multimillionaire enemy or will her feelings for him get in the way? Follow Flora’s hilarious journey of love, hot chocolate and marshmallows, and the man who changes everything.

Click on: http://lrcook.wordpress.com/2014/07/29/read-an-extract-from-rorys-proposal-here-get-a-mug-of-tea-and-a-hobnob-and-enjoy/ to read a sample chapter.

Twitter link https://twitter.com/Lyndarenham

Web page www.renham.co.uk

Writing

SUMMER MOVED ON UPDATE…

Posted on August 12, 2014September 17, 2014 by Jo Lambert - Author

I’ve missed a couple of my blog slots since returning from holiday in Derbyshire a few weeks ago. This has been mostly due to catching up with life in general and trying to haul myself back up into the writing saddle. The latter I am now glad to say I’ve achieved and things seem to be going relatively well. The good news is I’m currently 93,000 words and counting. It’s been a bit of a roller coaster as all my other books have been wit

Writing

THE STORY SO FAR…

Posted on July 20, 2014 by Jo Lambert - Author

I’m back after a week in one of the most beautiful parts of the UK. It’s been a relaxing few days with the opportunity to distance myself from everything going on at home. However as any of you who are writers know, writing is something you never quite separate yourself from no matter where you are. As human beings there’s always something going on in our heads, whether it’s what to cook for the next meal, deciding whether to buy that expensive pair of shoes we saw yesterday, what to watch on TV tonight or in my case, the situation with my current work in progress.

I have to confess I did try really hard to fight the whole thing; to tell myself the time for becoming a writer again was on the 18th when we returned home. However, I found it impossible. I was thinking about various issues with the book all the way there, all the way back, and in lots of bits in between. Before we came away, I closed down on that last evening with the end of the current chapter unfinished, basically because whatever I wrote simply didn’t sit right. Oh it seemed to work but seeming for me isn’t the end of the deal. I have to be sure I’m happy…really happy before I close off and move on to write the next chapter. Writing from home is great but it has to sit alongside everything else. The day has to be planned; meals prepared, domestic stuff done and of course I need time out to socialise. Therefore writing fits into the bigger plan, it has its place but alongside everything else going on in my life. So a week away with my other half to the exclusion of everyone else was a godsend, It allowed my mind a clear run on how everything in my writing world was progressing. Without any distraction I could sit back, analyse and put a few things down on the pad I’d brought with me. Although we had no wifi in the area except in a few of the local pubs, I also took the laptop along to use as a word processor as I don’t trust my scribble if left more than a day! The solution to the end of the chapter I had been working on came within the first few days of the holiday and I used my spare moments when not out and about to sit down and outline the scene. A second and necessary earlier scene for that chapter followed and both were typed up and inserted into the manuscript which I carried on a USB stick. Result!

Another thing that had been niggling me was the surname of one of the central characters. When I first chose it I felt it balanced well with his first name. However, I soon began to feel it simply didn’t sit right on the character I was visualising. On occasions I’m stuck like this a car journey can turn out to be priceless and street name signs invaluable. I had to wait until Wednesday as we were going through one particular town for luck to strike. I saw the sign, knew that was what I’d been waiting for and that was it! One more thing which could be crossed off the ‘To Do’ list.

Wouldn’t it be marvellous to plan a book and simply write it? In some ways I guess I envy those who have that journey with everything set from that first initial step into Chapter One to THE END. Or do I? No actually I don’t. The excitement for me in writing is the unknown; in that spark of new ideas as you reach a particular scene and decide how you will play it – from whose perspective and where the action takes place. What I also tend to do while working on a book is change hats. Being an avid reader as well as a writer, I like to step back and look at what I’m doing from the reader’s viewpoint. Is the story plausible? Is the dialogue right? Are the characters physically working the scene correctly. It may be simple things but collectively they are so important. I’ve read many books where I’ve thought ‘No, he wouldn’t do that.’ or ‘hang on, this character has just taken off his coat – twice.’ Of course these errors should be picked up when the manuscript is edited (or not, in the case of the character taking off his coat not once but twice in the same scene!), for me it’s simply part of my personal writing process.

The jury is still out on whether this WIP is going to make one or two books. The time span for the novel is in two distinct years – 2007 and present day which lends itself quite neatly to a split should I choose to go down that road. The way the first part is shaping – now sitting at just over 81,000 words I would say yes we are probably looking at two books. If not then I’ve got another large book on my hands which I need to avoid if I want a sensibly priced paperback version. I do like to keep a hard copy of the book and there are some friends who still avoid Kindle, although Amazon sales are almost 100% electronic downloads. This will mean another book cover of course. I have already sorted the one for Summer Moved On. I find creating the cover is almost as exciting as writing, I absolutely love getting involved. My designer Jane Dixon Smith is amazing – and she’s also an author in her own right.

I’ve some research to do as well into running a stud as horse breeding figures in the second part of the book. Basic background knowledge regarding stud farms is something I can probably pick up locally as we’ve several in the area but that’s for later in the year and on the back burner at the moment.

So that’s it. Not giving anything away about plot or characters only to say I’m pleased with the cast and the story. Now to get back to the most important thing of all – the writing!

Have a good week – back next weekend!

Jo x

Writing

‘EXTRA TIME’ – BOOK #2 IN THE STRIKER SERIES IS RELEASED!

Posted on July 12, 2014July 9, 2014 by Jo Lambert - Author

The game kicked off on June 5^th with the release of ‘Striker’, and now that game carries on with the release of ‘Extra Time’, the second book in Michelle Betham’s seductively wicked bonkbuster trilogy.

Life’s moved on for professional soccer player Ryan Fisher, sports reporter Amber Sullivan and Jim Allen, the manager of Ryan’s club Newcastle Red Star. But the repercussions of just a few months ago still hang heavy. Who’s trying their best to play by the rules? And who’s still willing to break them…?

Delving into the lives of those who live and work within the so-called Beautiful Game, ‘Extra Time’ is a story of sex, secrets and the true cost of fame.

Footballers’ Wives meets Jackie Collins in this sizzling scorcher of a read!

‘Extra Time’ – the game continues…

MICHELLE SAYS:

I’ve been making up stories for as long as I can remember, so it stood to reason that, at some point, I’d start writing some of them down. I currently have ten novels in total to my name, ranging from the sweet to the really quite steamy – which is my favourite kind of romance!

When I’m not creating hot heroes and sexy scenarios I like to read everything from erotica to horror. I’m also a bit of a TV addict with a penchant for “binge-watching”, I love football, darts and rock music, have a slight obsession with Timothy Olyphant, and I’m also an unashamed ‘Breaking Bad’ geek!

Contact Links:

Blog – http://michellebethamwriter.blogspot.co.uk/

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/michellebetham.author

Facebook Author Page – https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMichelleBetham

Twitter – @michellebetham

‘Extra Time’ – Book #2 in the Striker Series – is available to download now from the following buy links:-

‘Striker’ – book #1 in the series – is also available to download, and ‘Final Score’ – the third and final book in the trilogy – is due for release in August.

Paperback versions of all books in the series will be available later in the year.

Writing

REVIEW OF SOPHIA’S SECRET by JULIE RYAN

Posted on July 12, 2014July 26, 2014 by Jo Lambert - Author

This is the second book in the Greek Island Mystery series. Although each book is intended to be read as a standalone, some of the characters from the first book, ‘Jennas’s Journey’, do make an appearance. Kat has never understood why she was sent at the age of seven from Greece to live in England with her Aunt Tigi. When she receives an email from her grandmother, the first contact in over twenty years, informing her of her mother’s death, she knows this could be her last chance to find out the truth. Little by little she finds out the shocking facts as her grandmother opens her heart. It seems everyone has a secret to tell, not only her grandmother, as Manoli, her school friend, also harbours a guilty secret. Then there’s a twenty year old mystery to solve as well as a murder and what happened to the missing Church treasure?

MY REVIEW Written in four separate parts first we are introduced to Kat, who is returning to the island of her birth with young daughter Izzy. Her mother’s recent death is the reason for her return; a woman she was taken from when she was just seven years old after her father died. Raised by her Aunt Tiggy in London her mother’s death has now brought many questions she seeks answers for. Answers she hopes her grandmother will have. Kat has also welcomed this break from the UK, away from her troubled relationship with husband Robert. She is reunited with childhood friend Manoli, married to an English girl with a family of his own and still haunted by a traumatic childhood memory. While back at home Kat’s husband Robert has problems of his own as Keisha his daughter from his first marriage turns up on his doorstep with unexpected news. In the second part of the book we go back in time to Grandmother Sophia’s story and the reader is able to start to piece together this mystery and find the answer to some of Kat’s questions. The story then returns to present day. In parts three and four, past and present are carefully woven together to eventually present all the answers – and some surprises! A great plot with a wonderful cast of characters. Life on a Greek island is colourfully described with just enough detail to run comfortably alongside the main story. Although the second part of a trilogy, this can be read as a stand-alone book. And I have to say, the appearance of some of the characters from Jenna’s Journey was tempting enough to make me want to download a copy and read it. A very well deserved four stars from an author I hope to be reading more of… Thank you to JB Johnson for forwarding me a free copy in exchange for an honest review.

NOW READ AN EXCERPT FROM SOPHIA’S SECRET: The boy knew he shouldn’t be out so late on his own but a dare was a dare! His best friend, Vasilli, had dared him to meet up at midnight in their den in the woods. He’d been so excited he could barely sleep. His mother had come to tuck him in—not that a boy of nearly eight needed tucking in he’d reminded her as they went through the usual nightly ritual. “Night night.” “Sleep tight, mind the bugs don’t bite.” Then when she’d gone, he forced himself to stay awake until he heard his parents come back up the stairs to their room. He waited for the light to go out and gave it a few more minutes to be on the safe side. The luminous watch that he’d asked for on last birthday was showing nearly 11.30. There would be plenty of time to get there. He peered out of his bedroom window. It was dark out. There were no streetlights in his village. It was lucky that he’d remembered to pack a torch. He crept silently down the stairs, careful not to wake either his parents or the sleeping twins, put a jacket on over his pyjamas, slipped his trainers on and spying the fruit bowl on the table, put a couple of apples in his pocket in case he got hungry. The gang had built the den during the long summer holidays when they were allowed to play out until late provided that they told an adult where they were. This was different. The summer had given way to autumn and there was a chill in the night air. He wrapped his arms round himself for extra warmth or maybe just to give himself courage. He thought fleetingly of turning back but he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand Vasilli’s taunts of ‘chicken’ the next day. All he had to do, he reminded himself, was cut through the woods at the back of his house and meet his friend in the den. Just then, as if giving him a signal, the moon came out from behind the clouds illuminating the woodland path. He set off at a run, not wanting to be late. Once he reached the safety of the den, they’d have a good laugh about what a great game it had been. An owl hooted in the branches above him almost scaring him silly. It felt so different at night. Every sound was magnified a thousand times, making him alert to every eerie sound. Little creatures scurrying around made the leaves underfoot rustle. Twice now he’d thought he heard someone following him but when he stopped there was no one. Only a few more metres to go and he’d be safe. Not wanting to cut through the churchyard, he kept to the wall until he reached the woods. The moonlight showed him the den, just as he’d left it. He rushed inside, breathing heavily, surprised to see that Vasilli hadn’t arrived yet. He glanced at his watch. It was only 11.54. He decided to wait no more than ten minutes and then he was going home. His father would give him a right talking to if he got caught. He’d probably be grounded for weeks. It never crossed his mind that his friend wasn’t coming. He settled himself into the snugness of the den to wait. At least it was warmer in here, out of the wind. He woke up suddenly, surprised that he’d fallen asleep. There were footsteps just outside the den: Vasilli must have been held up. He was about to shout to him but thought he’d surprise him instead by shouting ‘boo’ as he crawled through the entrance. The footsteps stopped and he heard a scraping noise. He peered into the darkness but couldn’t make out what his friend was doing. Then the moonlight clearly showed him that whoever it was, he was far too tall for his friend. It was a man with a spade. He could hear the soft earth plop onto the ground as he dug a hole. Suddenly the den smelt of fresh earth and vegetation. He hoped the man wasn’t going to be long. He was in enough trouble already. The moon disappeared and it was dark again, totally silent now except for the sound of the spade on the damp earth. He’d wanted an adventure but suddenly an adventure on your own wasn’t nearly so much fun. He wondered what the man was doing. Maybe he was burying treasure. They could come back tomorrow and dig it up. That would be fun. He knew though that he shouldn’t be here and was afraid. What if the man caught him and told his parents? His heart was thumping so loudly he was sure the man could hear him but the spade just continued to thwack as the soil was lifted. It seemed like hours but his watch showed it was 1.10am. When the moon came out again he saw the man lift something big and heavy into the hole and start to cover it up. Now he knew he had to remain totally silent or else he’d end up in the hole too no doubt! He had a horrible thought that perhaps instead of treasure, the man was burying a body. At any rate it certainly didn’t look like treasure. Why was he out here in the woods at this time? He couldn’t be up to any good? Just then the man trampled down the earth so that it wouldn’t leave a trace just as the moon slid out from the shadows. The boy realized with a jolt that he knew the man. Fear trickled through his body, just as he lost control and wet himself. Hot urine trickled down his leg, turning cold seconds later. He didn’t consider the trouble he’d be in for wetting his pajamas, right now he just wanted to be anywhere else but in the middle of the woods with a murderer for company. He was tired, cold and wet. He watched the man leave and when he was sure it was safe, he ran all the way home. He was relieved that his parents hadn’t missed him. He half expected all the lights to be on and his father standing in the middle of the living room asking him where the hell he’d been. Instead there was a gentle snoring noise coming from the bedroom. Luckily the twins hadn’t woken his parents up while he’d been out. He quickly changed into clean pjs. He’d admit to wetting himself in the morning but that was all. He crept into bed and fell asleep straight away but somehow his mother’s words kept playing on his mind over and over again. ‘Mind the bugs don’t bite.’ He dreamt of bugs covering him but instead of a bug’s face, he saw the man in the woods. He was to dream the same dream time and time again. PART ONE Chapter 1 They say you should never go back to a place where you were once happy, not unless you are prepared to be disappointed. As she surveyed the all too familiar island from the deck, Kat wished she’d heeded that advice. The beautiful cove where they’d played as children was now home to a luxury hotel—the azure blue waters of the infinity pool glinting in the sun. ‘Why on earth had she come back?’ she asked herself. She knew that it would only lead to more heartbreak, yet after all this time she had finally been unable to resist the pull of her homeland. “Is that it?” Asked an excited voice next to her. “Yes darling, that’s where mama grew up. If you look carefully, you can just make out the house where I used to live when I was your age. It’s at the top of the hill. Can you see it yet? The little house painted yellow. It’s called ‘To spiti lemoni.’” “I see it, I see it,” replied Izzy jumping up and down. Looking at her daughter’s face flushed with youthful exuberance, Kat felt a tug of nostalgia for that innocent time. She put her arms round her daughter and hugged her close, wanting to protect her from anything that might harm her. “When’s daddy coming?” Izzy asked out of the blue. “You know he has to work, sweetie. This is going to be our little adventure, okay?” “But I’m going to miss him sooooo much.” Luckily before Kat could think of anything else to say, they were caught up in the swell of passengers disembarking. Pushing their way past dithering tourists trying to get their bearings, they set off up the hill towards the lemon house. Luckily they hadn’t brought much luggage, just a bag with a couple of changes of clothes each, swimming things, underwear and a few toiletries. Anything else that they needed she figured they could buy on the island. They wouldn’t need much as she didn’t intend to stay for long. She’d planned on being away for a week, two at the most depending on how long the formalities were going to take. Izzy had her own backpack with her DS in it. She’d virtually refused to come away without it and Kat could empathize with that because she felt the same about her Kindle, which went everywhere with her. She knew she gave into her daughter far too much but she could honestly say she wasn’t a spoilt brat like some of the other kids in her class and that was down to her. She could hardly give Robert any credit for his daughter’s upbringing, as he was never there. The email had pinged into her ‘in’ box just as she and Robert hit a really bad patch. They’d been arguing more and more recently. She knew he worked hard but he didn’t appreciate that she worked too as well as looking after their daughter and the house. It seemed that lately more and more was left to her and when they did speak it was just to complain about each other. She was fed up with his long hours and lack of family time; he complained that she was never satisfied. Then the email from Greece had arrived informing her of her mother’s death. For the rest of the day, she’d put it to the back of her mind. After all, she hadn’t seen her in years so she could hardly play the grief-stricken daughter. Then that evening over dinner she’d mentioned it to Rob and his sense of duty had insisted that she go and pay her respects. Of course, his work responsibilities didn’t extend to him accompanying her and with nobody to look after Izzy she’d almost turned it into a holiday, pushing the real reason why she was here to the back of her mind. The sun was blazing and already she could feel a trickle of sweat run down her neck into the crevices of her shoulders. They stopped at the periptero, which had expanded from the tiny kiosk that she remembered into what looked almost like a shop with awnings and freezers taking up most of the outside space. She had to face up to the villagers at some point she reasoned and this seemed as good a place as any. Achilles had barely changed at all. As a child she’d thought he was old but back then he couldn’t have been more than forty-five. Now, he must be nearly seventy but she recognized the weather beaten features and the kind eyes. Steeling herself, she spoke to him in Greek remembered from years past. “Two ice-creams please.” Achilles looked up from the newspaper he was reading, “You’re back then? We weren’t sure if you’d come or not.” He said. For a second she wondered how he could possibly recognize her after all this time. Then she looked down at her daughter who was the spitting image of her at the same age. She knew that whatever she said would be all round the village in a matter of minutes. Achilles would take great pleasure in passing the news on to all his customers and soon everyone would know that Pelagia’s daughter was back for the funeral. There was a pause as neither knew what else to say until finally, remembering the circumstances under which she’d returned, Achilles waved away her offer of a ten euro note and said the ice-creams were on the house. Before he could ask any more questions they moved up the hill and sat on a low-whitewashed wall to eat their ice creams. Looking around her, Kat thought that this part of the village had changed very little. She still recognized most of the houses although some had evidently been sold and tarted up as holiday homes. Where the roofs had once held spare water tanks in case of drought and solar panels for the hot water, now they were proper roof terraces with sun loungers and patio furniture catering to the needs of tourists. The traditional donkeys that she remembered from her childhood had long gone, as the islanders’ wealth had improved. Now you had to be wary of young men riding mopeds and scooters instead. It felt strange to be in a place that was so familiar, yet to always be the outsider. It was strange too how she never quite felt English in England yet she’d been away so long she no longer felt Greek either. Even her name was neither one thing nor the other. She’d changed it from her birth name of Ekaterina to Kat when she’d realized that nobody in her class could pronounce such a mouthful. It wasn’t quite English either as she hadn’t liked to be called Katie. Perhaps she really should have trusted her instincts though and stayed at home. She’d only come because Robert insisted. It was almost as if he had an ulterior motive. She pushed that thought to the back of her mind too. Now she really was becoming paranoid. Maybe that’s what returning to the island did to you? Soon they reached the top of the hill and the lemon house, pausing only to take in the tremendous view that she recalled so vividly. On a clear day you could see all the way across to the mainland. It was a view that no camera could quite capture. Its exquisite beauty refused to be pinned down. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be back, after all? Out of a childhood habit she automatically felt under the terracotta pot where her mother had always hidden the door key. Nothing! She couldn’t believe she’d come all this way to be refused entry to her own childhood home. Her emotions were running high but she knew she couldn’t let the tears fall, especially not in front of Izzy. She thought that if she started crying, she would probably never stop. Then the door opened and her grandmother said. “I heard you were back. You’d better come in.” Achilles’ early warning system had worked faster than even she could have anticipated. “I got a text from Achilles in case you were wondering.” Kat marvelled inwardly at how well her grandmother could read her mind but then that was something she’d always been good at. Somehow though she hadn’t associated mobile phones with her grandmother and wondered if she was being unreasonably ageist or if it was because the way she remembered the island was before the advance of technology AUTHOR BIO Julie was born and brought up in a mining village near Barnsley in South Yorkshire. She graduated with a BA (hons) in French Language and Literature from Hull University. Since then she has lived and worked as a Teacher of English as a Foreign Language in France, Greece, Poland and Thailand. She now lives in rural Gloucestershire with her husband, son and a dippy cat with half a tail. She is so passionate about books that her collection is now threatening to outgrow her house, much to her husband’s annoyance! She is the author of two novels set in Greece, “Jenna’s Journey” and “Sophia’s Secret” both part of the Greek Island Mystery series. She is currently working on a third book, ‘Pandora’s Prophecy.”

LINKS Facebook – http://www.facebook.com/Julieryanauthor Twitter @julieryan18 Blog www.allthingsbookie.com

BOOK LINKS

Jenna’s Journey – http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00EXDPZD2 http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00EXDPZD2

Sophia’s Secret – www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00LFJGCWA www.amazon.com/dp/B00LFJGCWA

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UNFORGETTABLE MOMENTS…

As I don’t use my blog as an electronic diary of events in my life, I have to come up with different topics each week to write about. Inspiration can sometimes be incredibly slow, either that or suitable subjects suddenly become not so suitable. This weekend was one of those occasions. Something I’d thought would make a good subject completely dried up on me, leaving me totally adrift. It was only in the early hours of this morning when I woke up that I decided to wander back to the subject of holidays.

I think some of the most memorable holidays aren’t the ones where you jet off and lie peacefully in the sun for a fortnight. They are the ones where strange, quirky things happen. Like going on a sherry tour in Herez, Spain when one of the group got shut in the tasting room and left behind. He was a little South American guy who was visiting Spanish relatives. We’d finished tasting the various types of sherry and the guide had ushered us all out and locked the door. We were making our way down the corridor when his friends realised he was missing. Returning to the tasting room, there he was, perched on a stool downing yet another glass of sherry, obviously making the most of his captivity! Here are a few more memorable incidents:

Beggar’s Banquet

We were in Spain on holiday one year sitting outside a restaurant in Malaga having lunch. Along comes this guy on crutches and stops at each table begging for food. I couldn’t believe it when he reached our table and leaning on his crutches indicated he would be grateful if we offered him some of the food we had there. We indicated no very politely and he moved on. Moments later I happened to look up and saw someone on one of the other tables handing him several Euro notes from his wallet. Thanking him the guy hobbled away. Reaching the end of the building he stopped, tucked his crutches under his arm and ran off!

Arachnophobia in France

In 2005 we rented a farmhouse in the Dordogne. It was miles from anywhere with no near neighbours – so relaxing and peaceful. The British couple who were renovating it retreated to a caravan in a small wood which bordered the property whenever they had paying guests but were always on hand if needed. In the kitchen to the left of the sink was a very small blue enamel bucket. On the first morning I took a look inside – and wished I hadn’t. There nestling in the bottom was one of the largest spiders I had ever seen. Our friends were still in the process of getting up so I got my husband to eject the thing, knowing like me, our friend’s wife Jan absolutely hated spiders. At home although I don’t like them – too many legs and a nasty habit of homing in on you as if they can sense your fear – I can generally deal with a spider situation. No way was I getting involved with this large black thing though. So my husband launched it into the nearest flower bed and that was that. Only it wasn’t. The next morning it was back and the morning after that. It became known as the Homing Spider and in the end in desperation we took to leaving the bucket outside the back door and that seemed to work – it was happy there.

How Much?

During the week we visited the local market in Le Buge, our nearest town. An amazing experience not only for the food but other things, like an old mobile horse-box converted to carry all these amazing grandfather clocks! Us girls sent the men off to get some cheese. Not a difficult task you would think. Meeting up later when we asked about the cheese there were guilty glances before they produced a very large thin segment which had obviously been cut from a truckle. ‘That’s enough to last the whole week.’ I observed looking at it. ‘We did sample before we bought. It’s very tasty.’ came the enthusiastic reply, not that it had anything to do with my comment. The embarrassed glances continued. ‘How much did it cost?’ Jan asked curiously. ‘Oh, you know…’ Two voices blended mumbling different amounts. ‘How much?’I asked as we both stared at our men. ‘Only Thirteen Euros.’ My husband decided to come clean, brushing off the extortionate price with a smile as if he’d got a bargain. I opened my mouth and got as far as ‘Only…’ ‘But it really great cheese.’ My husband enthusiasm drowned me out, solidly backed by Jan’s husband’s agreeing nod. ‘You’ll love it.’ He said. End of argument as far as they were concerned and the expressions on their faces dared us to say otherwise. Jan and I looked at each other, shook our heads and walked away. Now if we girls had paid such an extravagant price for cheese we would have never heard the last of it but as I’ve learned over the years men have a habit of setting their own rules don’t they?

Spanish Dancing and The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Afternoon

During the same holiday as our sherry tasting in Herez we also spent a few days in Seville. We booked into a hotel in the north of the city within ten minutes walk of the centre. On our first morning we took off after breakfast for sightseeing. Arriving at the Plaza d’Espana we stopped to watch a small group of young women wearing colourful flamenco costumes and dancing on a raised platform. The music was coming from a tape on a large portable radio set in one corner of the platform. A crowd had gathered to listen and everyone was joining in, clapping. The music is very passionate and energetic accompanied by feet stamping and a lot of that was going on. It took me a moment to realise the stamping sound was coming from the tape because unbelievably all these girls were wearing trainers under their costumes!

Moving on we spent the morning taking in the sights and stopped for lunch before beginning our trek back to the hotel. And then we found a friend. I don’t know where this dog, an Alsatian cross, came from but no matter what discouragement was given it simply would not go away. My husband and our friends decided to stop hoping it would get bored and wander off. Me, on the other hand, who can only really deal with small dogs, kept walking. The dog trotted pass the other three and started closing in on me. Up close it seemed friendly and quite harmless. Of course, my new best friend caused a lot of amusement and in the end we gave up and just continued with our journey. On reaching the hotel the dog followed us in and settled itself quite comfortably on the marble floor of the reception area. I thought someone might have shooed it out but no one did, in fact the staff found it a bowl of water making me wonder whether this dog had latched onto unsuspecting tourists before. When we came down again later it had gone. My overactive writer’s imagination left me wondering whether I had just missed out getting myself my own personal Game of Thrones Direwolf.

I’m Bulgaria Air – Fly Me

And finally, last year an absolutely priceless moment. We had booked a week in Lake Garda, Italy for September. Two months after the booking Tui, the holiday company, transferred the flight to an Italian airline. We didn’t have a problem with that but we did with the change in flight departure times. Outward was at midday, the same as our original Thomson flight but our new return journey meant we had to leave the hotel at 6am in the morning to get to Verona Airport. On departure day we arrived at Bristol Airport and checked in our luggage. Eventually we were called to the gate for boarding. Everyone got on the bus and it pulled away, taking us off to the western edge of the airport. It drove past this plane and everyone was commenting about it. How old it was and ‘laughs’ who was going to be flying out on that then? Actually it turned out we were! Apparently our scheduled plane had to be pulled in for a service and the Bulgarian plane was called in to cover. The shocked and in some cases horrified expressions on faces as the bus pulled up to the bottom of the plane steps was, as I said above, priceless. Some people even thought it was a hoax. I have to say despite it being an older jet we had a smooth flight and the cabin crew, although having limited English, did a great job of looking after us.

So that’s it for now. I’ll be back next Sunday. In the meantime have a good week everyone!

Writing

THE NAME GAME

Posted on June 23, 2014June 23, 2014 by Jo Lambert - Author

It’s been a great week away. The weather was obviously the icing on the cake, bearing in mind UK

summers are notoriously fickle. Sometimes holidays simply feel they are going to be good right from the start and this was definitely one of them. I know I do tend to bang on a lot about South Hams which is where Dartmouth, Kingsbridge, Totnes and Salcombe are situated. Having said that it is

a wonderful place to be, especially if the sun is out. Years ago we actually kept a boat on the south coast of the UK and spent most weekends there, so water and boats have always been a magical combination for me. Now, it’s all just a warm memory with a collection of photos to back those cerebral imprints up. When I got home and began to download I was amazed that I’d taken 180 photos. Digital cameras have turned holiday photography completely on its head. No more dropping off a film with your local processor then having your bubble burst when you get them back and the results show you weren’t quite the David Bailey you thought you were. No, now it’s great. You can weed out the disasters, download onto the computer and even print your own photos if you want to. A complete revolution.

Moving on, I had a lot of time over the last week to think about a main topic for today. In the end I decided it would be interesting to talk about fictional names. A new writing project involves many component parts – the story, the setting and, of course, the players. Not only do these individuals need to have a bio so we are familiar with their personalities and backgrounds, they also require names. So what triggers the decision on what to call your characters? It’s not something I have ever discussed with fellow writers, but I guess like everything else to do with the writing process, it’s all down to personal choice. As for me, my first rule is to avoid names I do not personally like. I also try and avoid using the first names of people I actually know. That’s probably because if I did I would be visualising that person instead of the character as I wrote, which would be both distracting and a little surreal! It’s also important for me to use a name which sits well with each character and feels authentic. I have to say 99% of my choices work first time around but I do tend to keep an open mind because there might be an odd occasion when as soon as I start writing the character/name combination doesn’t feel right and will need to be changed.

In the Little Court series which was spread over five books, there were a huge array of names (a cast of thousands one of my friends once amusingly remarked) so attention to detail when drawing up a character list for each new book was very important to avoid any embarrassing duplication. As you can imagine, the farther I got into the series the bigger the headache became in finding suitable names! This was because not only did we have the central families who had expanded over the thirty year span of the books, there were also secondary characters both in the village and the two provincial towns which were the settings for the stories. A Herculean task and one I’m not sure I want to repeat!

I have made a decision that my saga series days are now definitely behind me. There was a certain easiness in writing about people you already knew in settings that were familiar, but that was then and this is now. Time for a change and a new challenge. My current WIP, Summer Moved On, has a smaller cast and I’ve actually managed to find not only names I’ve not used before but ones which I think really do match their characters. The most unusual is Talún which is Gaelic but then there does have to be something special about that central character you hope all your female readers will fall in love with doesn’t there?

Enjoy your week, back next Sunday.

Writing

ON THE HOLIDAY TRAIL…

Posted on June 9, 2014 by Jo Lambert - Author

This is my last post before I pack for holiday. The thought of going away for a whole week is a great feeling. In fact I have to admit I do love holidays. OK I know what you’re all thinking. I quit my job last year; I’m a self-employed writer so I’m my own boss. That means I’m no longer tied into a nine to five. If I don’t feel like working on a particular day I don’t have to and I can organise a lunch meet or a day shopping with friends any time I want. In a nutshell I’m director of my own destiny. So that must mean my life is almost like a permanent holiday right? Well, yes in a way I guess that is true. However, with this new life comes a level of responsibility. I do have a time plan but it’s not as fixed as when I was working for someone else. I do still have to work though. Therefore what I term ‘proper’ holidays are still very special to me. It’s the ability to get away from all that the normal stuff and go somewhere completely different to chill out, relax and take in some new experiences.

Since I’ve been a published writer I’ve drawn on some of my travel destinations for settings. I’ve found it’s much easier to write about somewhere I have actually visited as I can call up the sights and scenes I’ve experienced and make everything feel much more authentic. Dartmouth, where we’re headed this coming Friday was featured in The Other Side of Morning and I’ve also used Italy in three of my five books. The Ligurian Coast featured in Love Lies and Promises. Venice in Between Today and Yesterday and for The Other Side of Morning Lake Garda.

We holidayed in Garda last September, returning to the Regina Adelaide where we’d had a wonderful vacation in 2001. Because we loved the lake and all the towns there so much we had decided it was time for a return trip. Booking into the same hotel again there was a moment when we wondered whether we might be making a mistake. Our twelve-year absence meant both the hotel and resort were now a bit of an unknown quantity. There was the worry that so much might have changed and not for the better. What crazy people we were worrying! We found Garda exactly the same; friendly people, beautiful flowers everywhere and that laid back continental atmosphere each evening in its bars with their live music. Trips to Riva, Sirmione and Salo didn’t disappoint either. And as for the hotel, well there was the same warm welcome and excellent service. And there was an added bonus because not only did we have a fantastic holiday, I also sorted out a seemingly impossible problem I had been having with my current WIP.

I had been struggling to start the final chapter of The Other Side of Morning but the more attempts I made the more it refused to come right. At the very beginning of the chapter I had to bring Marco and two of the key characters together. I had a few ideas about where they would meet but every time I attempted to write something, I wasn’t happy with it and I ended up deleting everything. Had I been using paper I’m sure the office floor would have been overflowing with my failed attempts! With the holiday imminent and rapidly running out of patience, I decided to shelve the whole thing, contenting myself with the fact that I would be a lot fresher to do battle with it when I got back.

DSCF2160 (640x480) — That inspirational place in Bardolino!

Our first morning in Garda saw us walking to neighbouring Bardolino. After a wander around and some shopping we stopped for a glass of wine outside one of the hotels. It was a beautiful morning and the four of us sat under a large canvas sun shade watching people passing by and the ferries coming and going. All of a sudden it hit me that this could be the place to begin that last chapter with Marco sitting here drinking wine just like us. The scene started to come together in my head and I managed to hold it there until we returned to the hotel. I quickly scribbled down my thoughts and on my return home began to write – and everything fell into place perfectly!

Spain2008_%20caceres_11 — Storks in Caceres

Toledo_Skyline_Panorama,_Spain_-_Dec_2006 — The Alcazar on Toledo’s city skyline

During the 1990s we spent a lot of time in Spain. Our friends owned an apartment just outside Marbella and we had some really good holidays there. Some years we would use it as a base and travel inland for stopovers in places like Granada, Seville and Herez. The apartment was sold in 1998 which coincided with a milestone birthday for all four of us. To celebrate we decided on a Spanish road trip. We booked a flight to Madrid, hired an MPV and arranged three two-night stopovers in Toledo, Caceres and Cordoba. This would take up one week of a planned fortnight and then we would drive down to the coast where, for the final week, we had rented a friend’s house. It was an amazing holiday. First Toledo with its narrow streets, swords and suits of armour – a place where El Cid was reputed to have captained the garrison. Then on to medieval Caceres with its nesting storks who flew about at night reminding me of feathered pterodactyls. And finally Cordoba and the fabulous Mesquita and Palace of the Christian Kings. All three place left special memories, whether it was joining in with the fiesta which was going on in Toledo when we arrived, watching the eerie flight of the storks at night as they circled over Caceres or embracing Flamenco in Cordoba. This was the real Spain and absolute magic!

We last holidayed on the Costa Del Sol in 2003. A joint wedding anniversary trip with friends. We rented a villa just west of Calahonda, minutes from the beach. We had a great time, toasted our skin, ate and drank far too much and made our usual pilgrimage up into the hills above Marbella to Benahavis – the place for great Spanish food and hospitality. There was a boutique hotel there – the Amanhavis – each of its nine rooms themed to celebrate either a period of the country’s history or a famous Spaniard. The Galileo room had a large telescope and a glass ceiling so you could lie in bed and look at the stars! Checking on-line today the hotel is still there and receiving good reviews – an average of 8.5 out of 10. So if anyone wants an off the beaten track stay at a hotel with a difference then that’s the place to go.

portboatlarge — Cabopino, Costa Del Sol, Spain

It’s always a little sad when a holiday comes to an end; you’ve had a good time but now it’s time to leave and return to the real world. That Sunday morning we vacated the villa early and on our way to the airport stopped off in Cabopino. If any of you remember the ill-fated British soap Eldorado, Cabopino was used for the marina scenes in the series. We had coffee there and then wandered out onto the breakwater where several elderly Spanish men were fishing. I remember looking back in land and all I could see were cranes and building work going on. I remembered 1991 when we first made this coast a holiday destination. It made me realise not only how fast the urbanisation had spread over those twelve years, but given the extent of the current activity, how much more there was to come. I realised then that maybe our time here was coming to an end. Far better to move on and hold onto those memories of what a good place it had once been before the building tsunami had taken hold. As we all climbed back into the hire car it appeared that everyone had been thinking the same thing. It was time to look for new places to spend our summers.

Since then we’ve been all over Europe, Greece and Italy being the favourites. We did actually return to Spain in 2010 to a place called Tamariu just up the coast from Barcelona. It’s a small quiet coastal village, favoured by Spanish holidaymakers – in fact while we were there we hardly heard a British accent. It was early July and we arrived during the time the last matches were being played in the World Cup; evenings when the bars were full with enthusiastic locals watching on wide-screen televisions. We were eating out in a beach restaurant the night Spain won. The atmosphere was electric and the partying went on well into the early hours.

So now I’m back in the present quietly sorting out what to pack and crossing fingers for some decent weather. Nothing, of course, is guaranteed in the UK. We might hit a heat wave or we could well spend the week trudging around in wet weather gear, who knows? See you all in a fortnight.