Book Review : The Killing Type by Jane Corry

The Killing Type The Killing Type by Jane Corry
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Oh what a tangled web we weave,when we first practice to deceive. And deception is most definitely the name of the game in this twisty,gripping short story of lies,manipulation,murder and secrets with a added dash of poetic justice.

Susie and her sister Danielle have never been very close and are now barely on speaking terms. So when Susie receives a message out of the blue from her sister begging to meet. Susie knows something must be wrong.

Susie is shocked when Danielle informs her that she is terrified of her husband Simon and believes that he is trying to kill her. Susie doesn't believe Danielle who has a history of lying and being over dramatic. Susie knows that Simon is a bit of a bully but surely he wouldn't hurt Danielle?

But then the accident happens,the sisters circumstances change and Susie finds herself caught in a situation that forces her to rethink everything.

Who is lying?

Who is telling the truth?

And who,really,is the killing type?

What crime - and let's be honest here - are you capable of?

This riveting,short story is told in short,snappy chapters that alternate between Susie and Danielle and jump quite quickly through time. There is also a chapter that covers a traumatic event from the sister's past. Being a very short story,the reader isn't given much time to build a connection with either of the two sisters. But I can honestly say that I liked one sister a lot more than I liked her manipulative sibling.

I really enjoyed this compelling short story that had me hooked in from the very first page. I think this would have been a really enjoyable,twist packed,full length novel. Highly recommended but far too short.

                                                                 AUTHOR BIO

Jane Corry is a former magazine journalist who spent three years working as the writer-in-residence of a high security prison for men. She had never been inside a jail before and this often hair-raising experience helped inspire her Sunday Times bestselling psychological thrillers, Blood Sisters and My Husband's Wife.

Jane is a regular life story judge for the Koestler Awards given to prisoners for art and writing. Until recently, Jane was a tutor in creative writing at Oxford University, and she now runs writing workshops in her local area of Devon and speaks at literary festivals all over the world. She has three grown up children and writes the 'Diary of a First-Time Grandmother' column for the Daily Telegraph.

You can find Jane on Twitter at @JaneCorryAuthor and on Facebook at JaneCorryAuthor as well as Instagram.

PUBLICATION DATE : 17th May 2018

LENGTH : 50 pages

PUBLISHER : Penguin Books UK

GENRE : Psychological Thriller




Cover Reveal and Extract : The Step Sister by Jenny O`Brien

                                                                   Book Blurb

When a stranger leaves step-sisters, Victoria and Ness, a half-share in a house in Holland, they think it must be a mistake.

But there's no mistake when Ness goes missing.
Desperate for the truth, Victoria heads to Holland to find out what happened to her. Has she, as her texts show, embarked on a whirlwind romance? Has someone abducted her or even worse?

But there’s someone watching, and that person wants her dead.

Can Victoria find out the truth before it’s too late?


I died yesterday, or so I’ve been told.

Yesterday is the day my life changed but how or why is still a mystery. There are things I know and there are things that they’ve told me but I can’t seem to trust any of it.
I know I’m a woman but I don’t know my age. I know how to hold a cup in the same way I know it’s rude to stick the end of a knife in my mouth. So, somewhere along the way, someone cared enough to drill manners into me. Those are the things I know, the things I can trust but as for the rest…
They tell me I’m in Holland but can I believe them? I don’t remember if I’m Dutch but I also don’t remember if I’m not. I can’t speak Dutch. I’ve been trying all morning but can one lose a language overnight? I seem to have lost everything else. Who knows? Maybe I took the wrong train or something and just rolled up in the wrong city. That would make sense except that it’s not just my sense of place that’s missing. It’s my sense of everything. I have no name, no age and no identity. Yesterday I died and today I’m still here.

They’ve left me alone now while they try to puzzle out what to do and in the meantime I’m going to try to remember stuff. I don’t know how long they’ll leave me alone but I need to take this opportunity to come up with some answers to all the questions they’ve been throwing at me like who the hell I am.
Slipping out of bed I recoil as bare feet meets cold tiles, but that’s not going to stop me. Pulling the back of the hospital gown closed in an effort to retain some degree of dignity, I shuffle over to the bathroom and then the mirror only to stare into the face of a stranger.
 It doesn’t matter what I look like or that I’m suffering from the worst case of bed-head known to man. It doesn’t matter that my eyes are green or that my hair is that shade of nondescript mouse that keeps colourists in business. The only thing that matters is my reflection, which holds no clues as to my identity. I’m a stranger to them. I’m a stranger to me.
My body holds a clue though - just one.
I push up my sleeve again to stare at the tattoo on my arm. The tattoo puzzles me. It’s not me, or part of me or who I think I am and yet it’s there, a large indelible letter V.
I have no idea what it stands for. Oh, I’m not stupid or anything or, at least I don’t think I am. I can’t quote which exams I’ve passed or if indeed I’ve ever attended school but I do know V stands for victory. But what does it mean to me? Am I victorious? Am I making a statement about something? It must be important because it’s the only tattoo I have. It’s also the only clue.
 I’m tired now. My eyelids collapse over my eyes even as I struggle to shift them upwards as I remember the cocktail the nurse told me to swallow like a good girl. I want everything to go away. I want to hide under the blankets and forget. I’ve already forgotten…

                                                               AUTHOR BIO

Jenny O'Brien was born in Ireland and, after a brief sojourn in Wales, now resides in Guernsey.  She's an avid reader and book reviewer for NetGalley in addition to being a RoNA judge. She writes for both children and adults with a new book coming out every six months or so. She's also an avid collector of cats, broken laptops, dust and happy endings - two of which you'll always find in her books.
 In her spare time she can be found frowning at her wonky cakes and even wonkier breads. You'll be pleased to note she won't be entering Bake-Off. 

Readers can find out more about Jenny from her

Blog : https://jennyobrienwriter.f.com
Facebook : https://www.facebook.com/JennyOBrienWriter/

PUBLICATION DATE : 29th October 2018


GENRE : Psychological Thriller




Blog Tour Review and Extract : Silencing Anna by Sadie Mitchell

Anna Bright is in hospital,in a coma after being found bairly alive in a hotel bathroom. Anna is trapped inside her own body,she can't move,she can't see or speak. She can hear the nurses chattering and her family and friends when they come to visit. As Anna desperately tries to communicate with the outside world,someone is watching her,someone who would prefer it if Anna was silent....permanently.

Words can have many definitions as can relationships. This is the story of two different variations of prisons and two completely differing relationships. As Anna lies in her coma,she takes us back through her life and her relationships with kind loving Dylan and manipulative,abusive James. I have never been able to understand how abusers keep their true character hidden for months and even years until they start living with their victim or they get married. Then it's like an invisible switch is flicked and the abusers true personality and attitude does a complete 160% turn,from.kind and loving,to violent and abusive and then back to kind and living and very very sorry. But like in this story,it's always the victims fault,the abuser hasn't done anything wrong. Their not the one with the problem,the victim is the one who is the problem. Anna tried to tell James`s mum June what her son was like but June was just as bad as her son. A fact that made the situation even more confusing for Anna and caused her to doubt herself and wonder if maybe it was her fault that James treated her so badly. Even though she had had a perfectly normal,loving relationship with Dylan. The descriptions of James`s abuse,belittling and manipulations of Anna were shocking and realistic and very hard to read at times. But if I'm honest,after a while began to become a bit repetitive. Yes,I know the cycle of abuse is repetitive and I know that sadly for many people James`s behaviour is their everyday reality. That was just how I personally felt as the story unfolded. My favourite parts of the story were the parts about Anna being a prisoner inside her own body where all she could do all day is lie on her bed and think. I loved the vivid descriptions of her nightmares,the wide range of emotions she experienced as each day passed,the voices that may or may not have been inside her head. How I felt about Anna constantly changed as the story unfolded,she wasn't very likeable at times but she did have some redeemable qualities to her character.

It's a well written debut domestic drama/ thriller,the writers words flow with ease and the storylines in each time frame were easy to follow. It's hard to read at times due to the subject matter and would raise some interesting discussions if it was read by a book group.

                                          AN INTROSPECTIVE RETROSPECT

It’s important to take stock of your life.  How often do any of us actually stop, look around and really appreciate that which surrounds us? Not often enough. Imagine that all you know, your life, your experiences and your independence were about to be taken from you.  Imagine that tomorrow your world will be gone. It’s difficult to do, but please try.  It’s important to realise what it is that we have because life is so fragile and we never know what is just around the corner.
My name is Anna Bright, and I am telling you this story from my prison cell.  It’s not the normal kind of prison cell, and I have committed no crime. There are no walls in my prison, and there is no secured door, for I am locked away inside my own body.  My thoughts, feelings and senses, they are all as they were, and the connection from outside to inside is working as well as it ever did, but the connection from inside to outside is broken.  I can’t move, smile or talk; my face remains inert and expressionless, unable to convey my emotions.  A machine is keeping me alive by breathing for me; the tube into my windpipe feels uncomfortable and intrusive.  I want to take a deep breath and sigh or yawn; I want to shout and tell others I can hear them, but no matter how hard I try, no matter what effort I make, nothing changes and no one notices.
Allow me to tell you how I ended up here.  Quite simply, I slipped.  I stepped on a wet floor in the bathroom of a hotel room, and I slipped and banged my head on the bidet.  A bidet of all things!  I suppose it is marginally better than a toilet, or maybe it isn’t?  I don’t know if people even use them.  I knocked myself out on a superfluous piece of bathroom furniture. Isn’t that the most unexciting way to destroy the intricacies of my brain? I think so, but it is okay because the world outside my prison has been making up a far more exciting story to replace the wet floor/superfluous bathroom furniture one.  The world outside my prison believes that I am the victim of a murder attempt, and according to the world, the would-be murderer is my boyfriend of eighteen months, James Green.  I can’t tell them this is not so, and it was simply an accident because I am locked in my prison, so I have to listen while the world makes up events that didn’t actually happen.  Oh, and James is probably going to prison and for a long time too.
People think I am asleep.  I am not asleep; I am trapped. It’s incredibly frustrating!  Sometimes when I get really mad and want to shout ‘I can hear you,’ my heart rate monitor beeps faster.   The only part of my body that still responds to how I feel and what I think is my heart.  There is something quite poetic about that.  It is so boring here, trapped, with the beeping and the rhythmic breathing of the ventilator, and all the alarms going off.  I’ve been trying to work out how long I have been here, but I have no real reference.  I think there is a shift change every twelve hours.  I will try and remember how many handovers I have listened to about myself and divide it by two. Why not?  I’ve nothing else to do.

                                                       ABOUT THE AUTHOR

This is Sadie’s first novel. She has three children and and a rabbit. She works in healthcare. When she’s not writing or working most of her life seems to involve picking up toys and finding things she’d forgotten she has.


FACEBOOK- https://www.facebook.com/sadiemitchellauthor/
Twitter - @sadiedmitchell
Instagram – sadiemitchellauthor

Don't forget to check out all the other stops on the Blog tour

PUBLICATION DATE : 6th July 2018

PUBLISHER : 3p Publishing

GENRE : Domestic Drama/Thriller




Blog Tour Book Spotlight : The Craft Room by Dave Holwill

                                                                  THE BLURB

Sylvia Blackwell is tired. Her grandchildren are being kept away from her, and the expected inheritance that might finally get her middle-aged son to move out has failed to materialise – thanks to her mother's cat. It is becoming increasingly difficult to remain composed. On a romantic clifftop walk for her 47th Wedding Anniversary, an unexpected opportunity leads to a momentous decision that will irretrievably change the course of her life.

The Craft Room is a darkly comic tale of sex, crepe paper, murder and knitting in a sleepy Devon town, with a 'truly original' premise and genuinely jaw-dropping moments. What would you do if unexpectedly freed from bondage you never knew you were in? How would your children cope? How far would you go to protect them from an uncomfortable truth?
You can only push a grandmother so far...

                                                        ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dave Holwill was born in Guildford in 1977 and quickly decided that he preferred the Westcountry – moving to Devon in 1983 (with some input from his parents). After an expensive (and possibly wasted) education there, he has worked variously as a postman, a framer, and a print department manager (though if you are the only person in the department then can you really be called a manager?) all whilst continuing to play in every kind of band imaginable on most instruments you can think of. His debut novel, Weekend Rockstars, was published in August 2016 to favourable reviews and The Craft Room, his second (a very dark comedy concerning death through misadventure), is due for publication in 2017. He is currently working on a third about the complications of living with your estranged father when you're in love with your best friend, or the complications of living with your estranged son when his best friend is in love with you - depending on which bit it is.


FACEBOOK : https://m.facebook.com/daveholwill100

TWITTER : https://mobile.twitter.com/daveholwill

GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15584279.Dave_Holwill

WEBSITE : http://davedoesntwriteanythingever.blogspot.com




Blog Tour Review : Leave No Trace by Mindy Mejia

Leave No Trace Leave No Trace by Mindy Mejia
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The woods are lovely,dark and deep,but I have promises to keep,and miles to go before I sleep.

There is a place in Minnesota with hundreds of glacial lakes and untouched forests called The Boundary Waters. Ten years ago Josiah Blackthorn and his nine year old son Lucas trekked into the wilderness and never returned.

They were presumed dead but now,a decade later....Lucas has suddenly reappeared. Discovered while ransacking a outfitter store,he was violent and uncommunicative and has been sent to a psychiatric facility. Twenty three year old Maya Stark,the assistant language therapist who has issues and secrets of her own is charged with making a connection with their high profile patient. But no matter what she tries,Lucas refuses to reveal where his father is or anything about the last ten years of his life.

The more time that Maya spends with her mysterious patient,the more she becomes obsessed with the enematic young man. Maya has worked hard to escape her past and rebuild her life but how much of her life is she prepared to put at risk to help Lucas reunite with his missing father

What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within is.

Told almost entirely from Maya`s point of view,this is a beautifully written tale of love,lose,mental health,abandonment and finding peace and forgiveness.Maya was a complex,feisty character who I had a lot of admiration for but also struggled to like at times due to the way she treated her Dad and also her boss/mentor Dr Mehta.Maya did things without stopping to think about the repercussions and how her actions affected other people. Interspersed throughout the story was chapters from Josiah Blackthorn`s point of view that covered his life and the events leading up to his and Lucas`s disappearance into the wilderness. I really felt so much empathy for poor Josiah,he obviously loved Lucas very much and was only doing everything in his power to give his son a good life but life and events just seemed to conspire against him. But why had he taken Lucas and fled into the wilderness? Why had Lucas suddenly reappeared? Why was Maya so intent on helping Lucas? The stunning settings and atmosphere played a big part in this story. It was almost like they were characters in their own rights,Mindy Mejia`s  descriptions were so vivid,you could close your eyes and imagine yourself wandering through the trees or lying down and looking up at the stars and constellations in the clear cloudless sky. I personally would have liked there to have been more chapters covering Maya and Lucas`s trek through the wilderness and less chapters about the psychiatric facility.

Leave No Trace is a mesmerising,fast paced mystery that had some unexpected twists,intense danger moments and held my attention throughout. The secondary characters were all well rounded and realistic and the ending was unpredictable and open to personal interpretation. I really enjoyed this gripping,intreguing thriller and would happily read more books by this author in the future.

                                                             ABOUT THE AUTHOR

My name is Mindy Mejia and I’m a writer. I write because, ever since I was six years old, my favorite game has been pretend. My life doesn't have symmetry, theme, symbolism, or meditated beauty and I gravitate toward these things like a houseplant to the sun. I love the perfect words; I love how “fierce” and “confounded” and “swagger” look on the page and how my chest expands when I read them. I write because I believe in the reality of my fantasies, the truth in my fabrications. I’ve always had stories sneaking around my head, thrillers like THE DRAGON KEEPER and EVERYTHING YOU WANT ME TO BE, and sometimes I inhabit those stories more than my own life. (Best not to mention that last part to my husband, kids, or boss.)


Website : https://www.MindyMejia.com

Twitter : @MejiaWrites

PUBLICATION DATE : 4th September 2018

PUBLISHER : Quercus Books

GENRE : Crime,Thriller & Mystery




A New Estate : Crimson Peak Fan Fiction by DarkHell616


                                                               A New Estate


Unofficial sequel taking place ten years after the events of Crimson Peak.
Odd happenings have been going on at Allerdale Hall.
Perhaps there is more to the sudden quittings of the workmen than Father let's on, but something certainly isn't right here

                                                            Chapter One

It had been a long and bumpy ride, the carriage rattling on the cobbled pavement with only a short, temporary reprieve at some point during the arduous journey.

The constant vibrations of my seat shook my bones to a point where I'd begun to feel sick and could feel a terrible headache starting to kick in.

I had heard that my new estate was quite a travel away from my current home, but I hadn't quite expected this.

After hours of rattling, bouncing and feeling like the wheels of my carriage may come off at any point we finally reached the large gates of my newly claimed home.

Allerdale Hall.

The entrance gate had the look of something almost regal, with the red bricks holding an almost golden arch over the entry. The sign decorating the middle stating the estate name and topped with what I'd presume to be a family crest, surrounded by a design that reminded me of a clockwork spin wheel.

The red bricks of the pillars matched perfectly with the continuing wall that currently housed dead looking twigs, which grew up the blocks like clasping hands.

Past the gates lay a vastly empty and large area of land, it wasn't anything I'd call a garden, not with all the dead looking grass and leafless trees that barely decorated the view.

"For such dead looking things, the plant life sure is thriving," I muttered to myself as my eyes scanned the area.

The path, mainly brown mud which was tinted red, that led to the house was still a trek, I'd estimate that it would take at least five minutes to walk from the front gate to the main door of the large, foreboding manor that sat at the end.

As the carriage continued to bounce down the path, I took note of various bits of machinery I'd never seen the likes of before.

A smaller building stood to the side of one of these large machines.

Not something I would be getting close to if I could avoid it.

The manor itself was gorgeous, much better than how I'd imagined it to be.

Standing larger than I'd anticipated, who knew how many rooms were in there to explore.

The design was stunning, unlike any other building I'd seen in the countryside where I'd come from. Though I'd never seen anything as isolated either.

Each level was higher than the other, the dark roofs ending in small piers that were simply enticing to look at.

Everywhere you looked there'd be something new to look at, unlike many houses which all began to look the same after the first few.

Initially the front of the building looked almost perfectly symmetrical, it wasn't until you took a closer look at the details that things truly stood out.

Allerdale Hall was truly a unique something to behold.

And Father had bought it for barely a thing.

The carriage finally came to a stop, letting me jump out and take some much needed cool air, anything to try and ease my unsettled stomach.

Up close the manor was much more beautiful than I'd given it credit for, almost like an old dolls house my father made me for my birthday one year.

"Well, here ya go."

I turned away from my new home to face my driver, his thick, farmer like Wiltshire accent shining through in every sentence he spoke. An accent I had apparently not picked up unless spoken on specific words, despite living there for twenty five years.

His brown cap was covering slicked, greasy dark hair and matched his jacket and trousers. The only thing that didn't match was his beige shirt, white socks and black shoes, I could only tell his socks were an off white colour because his lanky legs caused his trousers to have a fight with his ankles.

A fight his ankles quite clearly lost.

Despite the reputation of my home county, he was a well presented man who was only faintly rough around the edges.

"My father paid you for this long trip, correct?"

He grinned at me with yellowed teeth whilst climbing down from his spot in the carriage, once his feet hit the ground he made a few exaggerated movements to ease his tense muscles and stretch his limbs.

"He did, don't you worry 'bout it."

In a few swift movements he'd pulled my bags out of the carriage and set them to one side, I noticed his dark eyes briefly flickering towards the manor as an uneasy look flashed across his face.

"You'll be all alone here, 'mam."

"I'm fully aware, but I shall be fine thank you," I smiled at my friendly, though kind of peculiar looking driver.

"You're aware of what happened here, ain't chya?"

"I can safely say I am."

"Ya still wanna risk it?"

"I do."

"Bit mental if ya ask me."

"There's a certain appeal to a house with history, much like Lizzie Borden's home I'm sure."

"Horrible case that, you think she done it?"

"I'm not entirely certain what I think," I laughed faintly whilst picking up my belongings, two bags in either hand. "Thank you for bringing me here, but I can take care of things from this point."

He put his hands on his hips and looked back at the manor, letting out a low whistle.

"Ya sure ya don't want me to stay?"

"It'd be fairly uncouth for me to invite in a near stranger, besides you should leave whilst you still have some light."

There was a brief pause before he shrugged and climbed back onto the carriage, wiggling his hips a little until he'd found a position he was comfortable in.

"Sure you'll be alright?"

"Positive, I have people coming in a few days to check the roof for further damage," I nodded as I speak, thinking of the repair that my father had already paid to be done before I arrived.

Something about seeing to the base of the house as it was sinking into a red clay like substance.

This was apparently how it'd earned its nickname of Crimson Peak, a name I found oddly fascinating.

"Right well, luck to ya," he tipped his hat.

I stepped back and watched as he maneuvered the carriage around and headed back down the path, giving me a farewell wave.

After returning the wave I took one last deep breath, my lungs filling with nippy autumn air that held the smell of clay, before heading to the front door.

Setting my bags down I take out a selection of keys, fumbling around until I found the right one to twist into the lock.

With a clunk the doors swung open to invite me to my new home in Allerdale Hall.

                                                           Chapter 2


That was my initial reaction upon entering the main hall.

Cluttered and dreary.

Although the main hallway was large and open and wasn't covered in possessions there was still this enclosed feeling when you glanced around, this was mostly due to the balconies that protruded from the walls.

Dark wood carved with intricate designs made the balconies more appealing, just above the staircase to my left there was a windowed area that would need to be explored further to know what lay behind it.

It astounded me that everything still seemed to be in place, no one had even attempted to remove any of the previous owner's belongings.

Even the portraits that decorated the walls as you went up the stairs still hung in place, at the bottom of the dark wood banister, tucked into the corner to my left, was a partially covered love seat and to my right on the other side of the curtained alter was a chair and mirror.

There was so much going on around me that it was almost claustrophobic, the dark colours not helping.

The dark browns, greys, dull yellows and faint dark blues made everything cave in.

Various golden decorations hanging from the ceiling didn't help with the enclosed vibe of the room, yet I still found the place so beautiful.

So much was hidden in shadows.

I set my bags down, which clunked and created an echo as they hit the floor, and stepped towards the center of the hallway.

My black boots scuffed against the dust that hadn't been cleaned up from previous damage.
I remember my father telling me about a hole in the high roof that desperately needed mending, but according to sources and despite their clearly elaborate and lavish home, the Sharpe's were far from the rich people they could pass themselves off as.

I don't know much about the Sharpe's themselves, only of the odd happenings surrounding their deaths and Sir Sharpe's newly made widow.

Though many of my peers seemed surprised when I told them about my buying of Allerdale Hall, I could swear some glances had been exchanged yet no one said anything to deter me from moving there.

It wasn't until I entered the parlor that I realised just how much of the Sharpe's belongings would need to be sorted through.

There were portraits, a large piano, dirty looking jars and ornamental vases, partially used candles, pieces of papers and books scattered around that would need to be sorted through.

That wasn't even touching on the cabinets that would need to be opened and organised.

"This is going to feel uncomfortably intrusive," I sighed, my eyes scanning the area.

An unlit fireplace caught my gaze and I couldn't help but smile at the thought of warmth, it was getting late now that winter was coming close and the evenings were beginning to become a little crisp.

Allerdale Hall didn't seem to be the warmest of manors either, quite often drafts would blow through and send a chilled shudder down my spine.

Though that was no surprise considering the aforementioned hole that was still in the roof.

"Ad montes oculos levavi," I muttered softly, attempting to read the engraving on the fireplace, probably butchering the beautiful language in the meantime, "I have no idea what that means."

I let out a small laugh at my own idiocy and turned towards the piano that stood to my right, underneath a high set window.

The piano was grand but rustic and looked like an antique.

Despite not knowing how to play I had always enjoyed the smooth feel of the keys beneath my fingers when I was a child.

This is probably why I couldn't help but smile childishly and laugh at myself whilst gently pressing down on one of the white keys, letting the low note rumble around the room.

A wave of dust wafted into the air as I flopped onto the piano stool, causing me to cough as it gathered in my nose and the back of my throat. Something I probably should have anticipated considering the lack of use and how long it had been sat here, unused and forgotten.

Once the dust had settled again and I could breathe without worrying about having another coughing fit, I sat up straight with my shoulders pulled back and head held high. My hands poised over the keys as I introduced myself and my new 'revolutionary, one of a kind symphony', that I would now play for my imaginary audience.

In my head people watched in awe at the amazing melody that played, created by a novice no less. Though in reality, it was fair to say that the tune being plunked out by my clumsy and less than talented fingers was more like a stampede of horses trampling over uneven cobbles.

With my eyes closed and head tilted back, I soon lost myself in the imagined scene, almost forgetting that I wasn't in fact on a stage surrounded by adoring gazes.

It wasn't long before I was soon shoved back into reality by a harsh wind that seemed to slam against my right side, colder than any other gust I'd felt in the manor so far.

Goosebumps rose on my skin beneath my thick dress and I let out a small gasp, opening my eyes as I was pulled into the parlor once again.

With the force that the wind hit me, I could have sworn that someone had brushed past me.

Albeit rather forcefully.

Yet the only thing that caught my attention, and made me jump upon sight no less, was a rather ghastly looking portrait that was hanging on the wall above a cabinet to my right.

An older woman with white hair in a dark dress, holding a cane glared down at me, despite it only being a painting there was still a very intimidating feel to it.

"I'm sorry," I spoke to the portrait whilst standing up, "I didn't know my playing was that bad."

Without sparing another glance at the portrait I leave the parlor through the archway, back to the main hall, feeling foolish at having just spoken to a painting of a woman I didn't even know.

My hand rubbed the top of my shoulder that was already beginning to feel oddly bruised, the rubbing of my fingers only making it worse but feeling like a necessity, as if to reassure myself that it had indeed happened.

The pain confirmed my worries, yet part of me still didn't want to believe it.

Perhaps a large draft had picked something up that hit my arm, that seemed more plausible than 'the wind did it'.

"Maybe I just need a proper nights sleep," I mumbled to thin air.

Retrieving my bags from the main hall, I used the remaining light of the evening to make my way up the large staircase to find a room to sleep in for the night.

If it wasn't the master bedroom then I'd use the afternoon tomorrow to find where that was and transfer my things, but for now I just wanted a soft bed where I could wrap up warm and lie down.

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                                                         ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Hell Richards is a Bookseller from Trowbridge, England. As an avid fan of horror she’s spent many hours watching B-movies, reading horror stories and researching various myths and legends from around the globe. After accumulating a mass of books on hauntings from around her local area, she figured it was time to give it a shot herself.


TWITTER : https://mobile.twitter.com/Hell_Richards


BLOG TOUR REVIEW : After He Died by Michael j Malone

After He Died is the addictive,fast paced,twisty tale of the tension filled friendship that is forged between two women from completely different social classes during their quests for the truth about their lost loved one.

Paula Gadd is only just managing to hold herself together mainly due to the pills that she took before the service.Her beloved husband of almost thirty years has recently died,just days away from the forth anniversary of the death of their son Christopher.Grieving and bereft she is stunned when a young woman approaches her at the funeral service and slips a note into her pocket.A note that suggests that Paula's husband Thomas wasn't all he seemed. Intrigued Paula agrees to meet the young woman (Cara Connolly),who's shocking revelations cause Paula to wonder if she really knew her husband. Was Thomas really the evil person Cara insists he was? Paula reluctantly begins a search to uncover the truth. But the more she uncovers,the more endangered her life becomes.

The story is told in short,snappy chapters (many of which end on a cliff hanger) that alternate between Paula and Cara`s points of view. Just like Cara,I struggled to like Paula at times,she sometimes came across as a bit of a opinionated snob but then she would do or say something surprising and make me like her again. I loved the banter and interactions between Paula and Thomas's brother Father Joe who was a sweet,likeable character unlike Thomas's other brother Bill and his wife Daphne.Not everyone is who they appear to be and Paula will be find herself being betrayed by a number of characters as the story unfolds.Despite my mixed feelings about Paula's character,her chapters which were packed full of twists,mystery and intrigue were my favourite parts of the story. I liked feisty,caring Cara and admired her determination to get Paula to accept what she was saying about Thomas.I just felt that there wasn't as much danger and intrigue during Cara`s chapters. Cara is from a poor background and works with the underprivileged and homeless whereas Paula is wealthy,has a big house but is really quite lonely and isolated. It's a sad fact as Paula discovers that there always has been and always will be a massive divide between the rich and the poor as the author illustrates perfectly throughout this riveting thriller. The story is set in and around Glasgow,I spent quite a few years in Scotland when I was younger and sometimes stayed with my Aunt,who had lived not far away Erskine bridge which is mentioned in this story which brought back memories of my childhood.

This is quite a quick read due to the short,snappy chapters that give the reader a very bad case of just one more chapter syndrome. It's a well written,character driven,gripping thriller that held my attention throughout the whole book. This is the first book that I have read by this author and it most definitely will not be my last. Highly recommended by little old me.

                                                                       AUTHOR BIO

Michael Malone is a prize-winning poet and author who was born and brought up in the heart of Burns’ country, in Ayr. He has published over 200 poems in literary magazines throughout the UK, including New Writing Scotland, Poetry Scotland and Markings. His career as a poet has also included a (very) brief stint as the Poet-In-Residence for an adult gift shop. Blood Tears, his bestselling debut novel won the Pitlochry Prize (judge: Alex Gray) from the Scottish Association of Writers. Other published work includes: Carnegie’s Call (a non-fiction work about successful modern-day Scots); A Taste for Malice; The Guillotine Choice; Beyond the Rage and The Bad Samaritan. His psychological thriller, A Suitable Lie, was a number one bestseller on AU/UK ebook charts, and House of Spines soon followed suit. Michael is a regular reviewer for the hugely popular crime fiction website www.crimesquad.com. A former Regional Sales Manager (Faber & Faber) he has also worked as an IFA and a bookseller.

Follow Michael on Twitter @michaelJmalone1

E Book PUBLICATION DATE : 20th July  2018


PUBLISHER : Orenda Books

GENRE : Psychological Thriller