Amy Rowlings, the feisty, fiercely independent young amateur sleuth. Amy is a movie buff, a collector of American music and an avid crime reader. Particularly the novels of her hero Agatha Christie.
The Murder Awards is published by SpellBound Books on November 5th 2023.
The Murder Awards is the third Amy Rowlings mystery. Catch up with the first two, Murder at the Mill and Death at the Lychgate for just 99p on Amazon Uk. Also available in eBook, paperback and on Kindle Unlimited.
Crooner PC Ferris. Friend of Amy and Bodkin, singing in the Milton Cocktail Bar.
The Murder Awards is published by SpellBound Books on November 5th 2023.
The Murder Awards is the third Amy Rowlings mystery. Catch up with the first two, Murder at the Mill and Death at the Lychgate for just 99p on Amazon Uk. Also available in eBook, paperback and on Kindle Unlimited.
Helen Kelly. Wife of Nelson Kelly. On the surface, a happily married woman.
The Murder Awards. Published November 5th 2023 by SpellBound Books.
The Murder Awards will be the third Amy Rowlings mystery. Catch up on the other two for just 99p each on Amazon UK
The New Mayor and his wife. Seemingly well to do, but are they the perfect couple they seem to be?
The Murder Awards. Published by SpellBound Books on November 5th 2023.
Catch up with the Amy Rowlings Mysteries on Amazon UK
The Brothers. Horatio and Nelson. As different as chalk and cheese.
The Murder Awards. Published on November 5th 2023 by SpellBound Books Ltd.
Harold Kitson.
Failed investor. Mortgaged to the hilt.
The Murder Awards. Published by SpellBound Books. November 5th 2023.
An AI generated image of Amy and Alice.
The announcement of the publication of the third Amy Rowlings Mystery, The Murder Awards by SpellBound Books on 5th November 2023 means my mailbox is once again pretty full of questions from my readers about the forthcoming book.
For those unfamiliar with the mysteries, Amy Rowlings, our amateur sleuth is a machinist at a North Kent factory nicknamed, The Mill. Amy is a collector of American music, a movie buff and an avid reader of crime fiction, particularly the novels of Agatha Christie. Amy is 21, pretty, and has formed a close relationship with the handsome inspector Bodkin of the fictitious, Spinton Police. The first three novels are set in pre-war England in 1939. War is looming, though the events leading up to the Second World War only play a small part in the back story of the books.
So, on to the questions.
Q. What is the best thing about writing crime stories during this period in history?
A. I like the freedom an author gets when he/she doesn’t have to worry about using, DNA, CCTV or Social Media and phone records, all of which seem to provide the clues that lead to the capture of the perpetrator. None of those things existed in 1939, so it’s always down to the voracity and ingenuity of the investigating team to find the clues without the use of modern technology. I also like the fact that the post mortems of the time only gave investigators a limited amount of information about the deaths.
Q. What is the worst thing about writing crime stories during this period in history?
A. Getting the facts right. A lot of research has to be done before the book can be sent to the publisher. Attitudes, living conditions, retail products, fashion, music and the films of the day all have to be meticulously researched. Because Alice, Amy’s best friend, lives on a farm, particular attention has to be taken regarding farming practices, equipment, machinery, and even the vehicles that were in use at the time. The method of dispatching the victim also has to be carefully researched. It’s no good allowing the murderer to use a poison or medication that couldn’t be detected in the body back then, for instance.
Q. Do you find it difficult to describe the attitudes and language used by the characters in the story?’
A. Not really, as I was born only 14 years or so after the events I’m describing, so social attitudes, much of the language used, and even the food we ate was very similar. Smoking was rife and many characters in the books smoke cigarettes or a pipe. I deliberately chose to make all of my lead characters, non-smokers, though all of them like a drink or two on a Saturday night. Attitudes to women didn’t really change at all until the 1960s when the fledgling women’s liberation movement began to put pressure on the lawmakers. In the late 1930s a woman’s place was in the home and any money they did make from their employment, although desperately needed, was looked upon as pin money. Domestic violence was rife, and even in the better off households, the man was considered the master of all he surveyed, although it was universally acknowledged in private that it was women who held everything together at home.
Q. Why doesn’t Amy join the police force?
A. Simple answer. She would only have been allowed to join as a female policewoman and her main duties would have been making tea, standing silently by when women suspects were being questioned, or being assigned to look after the children of crime victims while the investigation went on around them. At that time, women couldn’t question witnesses and had no power of arrest. Amy would not have been happy in that role and she would never have been allowed to join the CID. This did not really change until the 1970s, but even then their presence was only grudgingly accepted by the men in the force, and their pay was well below what male officers earned when performing the same roles. Amy was far too independently minded to accept such constraints.
Q. Which part of the novels do you enjoy writing the most?
A. As has been said in a few of my reviews, these stories are as much a social commentary as murder mysteries. I do enjoy watching the investigation evolve in front of my eyes, but I also enjoy writing about the dire conditions a lot of people had to endure during that period. Slum housing was the norm in many of the industrial towns at the time. Spinton was no different and I do like to get myself, and Amy involved in their struggle for survival.
You can find the Amy Rowlings mysteries here. Ebook, Paperback and Kindle Unlimited. The Amy Rowlings Mysteries.
If you have a question for the author, please get in touch in the comments section of find me on Facebook.
Businessman Francis Drake and Advertising Agent Lorna Wetherby. The Murder Awards, the third Amy Rowlings Golden Age mystery. OUT NOV 5th. ‘The stories are as much as social commentary as a murder mystery.’
The Murder Awards. The third Golden Age, Cosy Crime Amy Rowlings Mystery. Published by SpellBound Books. Nov 5th 2023.
Living in abject poverty. Karen and her daughter Beth scratch a meagre living doing other people’s washing. Read their touching back story in The Murder Awards, the third Amy Rowlings Golden Age mystery. OUT NOV 5th. ‘The stories are as much as social commentary as a murder mystery.’
The Murder Awards. The third Golden Age, Cosy Crime Amy Rowlings Mystery. Published by SpellBound Books. Nov 5th 2023.
Today, 15th Sept 2023 marks the eighth anniversary of my beautiful wife’s funeral. Doreen, if you’re reading. You’re still missed as much as that first day.
I’d like to mark the anniversary by posting the poem that I wrote for her. It was read on the day by my daughter, Tamsyn who did a wonderful job. I was a gibbering wreck and couldn’t have got the title out let alone the rest of the poem.
Anyway, here it is. To you, Doreen. Until we meet again in one of those multi-universes or dimensions we all move into after we pass.
I would like to thank the organisers, support staff, the book buying public and my fellow attending authors for making the Tales on Trent Author Book Signing Event such a fantastic experience. It was truly wonderful to get to speak to so many people and I know I have made some new friends in the author community.
Special thanks go to organisers Claire Birkin and Hayley Bibbey. Also to author, promoter and panel host, Donna Morfett who, despite the loss of her voice, still managed to host all those meet the author sessions on stage.
Much fun was had at the after event party in the Glebe. As if he hadn’t been noticeable enough in his flouro-yellow suit during the evet, Author Darren Walker upstaged everyone again by appearing at the party in a kilt. Well done mate.
I can’t end without mentioning the forces of nature that are James Biddulph and his wonderful nine year old granddaughter, Nunu, who stole all our hearts. Amongst her other remarkable achievements, Nunu runs her own library from a telephone box, she also does a lot of work in the community getting books to families that otherwise would never get to see one. She is quite a remarkable young lady and has the wonderfully supportive grandfather she so thoroughly deserves.
Thanks for the company my fellow writers, Esther Chilton, her partner Greame Cummings and the fabulous author Jon Richter among many others. Many thanks to the members of the public who took time to speak to me at my table, big wave to Isobelle Cate, and last but not least, huge thanks to Claire’s mum for supplying me with the copious amounts of coffee that helped get me through the day.
Looking forward to next year already.
My table
The wonderful Nunu with her new books donated by the authors at the event.
Nuno with her fantastically supportive, flamboyant grandad, James Biddulph and the always understated, Darren Walker
The first 50 copies of Betrayal have arrived and I’ll be signing and posting them out to my fab readers over the next few days. A second order will be placed soon if anyone else would like a signed copy of my latest novel, the fourth book in the Unspoken series.
My latest author newsletter (August 2023) is now available to download.
This month I talk about the uncertainly I felt when I was writing my latest novel, Betrayal. There is also news of a book signing event I’m attending in September. If you’d like to subscribe there is a button on the top left hand side. To easily unsubscribe, lick the link at the bottom of the page.
Thank you for your interest.
T.A.Belshaw
You can download the newsletter, here. August 2023 newsletter.
BETRAYAL. Unspoken Family Saga. Series two, book one.
I am delighted to announce the release of the eBook version of my latest novel, Betrayal. The Unspoken saga continues with book one of the second series.
Betrayal.
Jessica Griffiths is in a relationship with police sergeant Christopher Kent, and for once, things are going well, despite the country being placed into lockdown by the government as they attempt to slow down the spread of Coronavirus.
Great Aunt Marjorie is back from her ill-fated cruise. Now living alone, she is visited by Iris of the Afterlife Society, who is convinced that the spirit of her dead sister, Martha is attempting to make contact. As lockdown approaches, she is befriended by her kindly neighbour, Selena who moves in with Marjorie, after all, two can live almost as cheaply as one, especially when you aren’t the one paying the bills. Jess is initially delighted at the arrangement, but is Selena really the sweet old lady she appears to be?
Nicola Griffiths, Jessica’s mother is still battling her alcohol demons but finds love in the form of Lenny Relish, an ex-con, jailed for manslaughter, but freed from prison on licence. Nicola is besotted but Lenny has some seriously dodgy acquaintances.
As the country eases into lockdown, Jessica gets news that will test her relationship with Christopher to the limit. Is he really the lover that will finally break the circle of the Mollison family man curse? Will she finally rid herself of her ex, the narcissistic, Calvin? And why has the beautiful, but menacing, Leonora, suddenly reappeared?
BETRAYAL. OUT NOW!
AMAZON.CO.UK CLICK HERE TO FIND OUT MORE
AMAZON.COM CLICK HERE TO FIND OUT MORE
Read for FREE! on KINDLE UNLIMITED
I am delighted to reveal the cover for my upcoming novel, Betrayal, the first book in series two of the Unspoken novels.
As usual the cover has been designed by the fabulously talented, Jane Dixon-Smith of JD Smith Design (jdsmith-design.co.uk
The book will be released in the summer of 2023
Today, I started work on Book1 of the second Unspoken series trilogy. The novel will be called, The Betrayal and will continue the adventures of Jessica, Nicola and Aunt Marjorie as the family begin to heal after the ill fated cruise that Marjorie and her older sister Martha had embarked upon.
I’m hoping to see publication of the new novel sometime in the mid to late summer, 2023.
As an appetiser, here’s the short, opening chapter.
THE BETRAYAL
Chapter One
Here she is now,’ Jessica Griffiths said excitedly to Detective Sergeant, Christopher Kent as they stood behind the flimsy metal barrier at the arrivals point at Heathrow airport’s terminal three.
Jessica stood on her tiptoes and waved at the confused-looking elderly woman as she came out of the exit, followed by a young man pulling a caged, trolley containing five large pieces of luggage. Perched precariously on top, was a huge, florescent orange travel bag.
Aunt Marjorie was seventy-six with short, silver hair. She wore an unbuttoned, knee-length beige mac over a pretty, flower-patterned, print dress. She was carrying a small, clear, plastic fronted box which contained a helmeted, London police doll. Perched on top of her silver hair was white, baseball cap with a picture of Mount Fuji and the famous Bullet Train. Underneath, in inch high letters was the word Shinkansen.
Marjorie stopped so quickly that the young man pushing the trolley almost crashed into her. She stood under the arrivals sign with her hand shading her eyes as she looked into the crowd of friends and relatives that had come to meet the passengers arriving on the Japan Airways flight.
‘She looks so lost and lonely,’ Jessica whispered to herself as she pushed her way past an excited, Japanese family group and shouted at the top of her voice.
‘Auntie Marjorie! It’s Jessica.’
Marjorie did a double take when she heard the familiar voice, and as Jessica appeared out of the crowd, her eyes filled with tears and her lip began to tremble.
‘Oh dear, Jessica,’ she said. ‘I’ve lost Martha.’
As the latest Amy Rowlings mystery, The Murder Awards hurtles towards its conclusion, SpellBound Books Ltd have issued a publication date of November 5th 2023. Thank you Sumaira Wilson from SpellBound for the social media reveal yesterday.
I am now in the happy position to be able to reveal the cover, designed once again by the fabulous Nikki East.
The Murder Awards
May 1939
When Amy Rowlings and Inspector Bodkin are invited to a black tie, civic awards ceremony at the Town Hall, they expect to be met with the usual, boring speeches and toe-curling sycophancy, but when the recipient of the night’s ‘Businessman Of The Year Award’, Nelson Kelly, is found stabbed to death after being called from the stage to answer the telephone, the evening begins to liven up.
Nelson’s company has just won a lucrative contract to build a new armaments factory and many of the town’s elite, having backed a rival bidder, aren’t happy at missing out.
When the CID department at the local police station is suddenly reduced in manpower, Bodkin is told he will have to manage the murder investigation alone.
Into the breach steps young Amy Rowlings, the twenty-one-year-old with a mind every bit as sharp as her fictional hero, Hercule Poirot.
Amy, an avid crime fiction reader, movie buff and collector of American records, brings her insight and intelligence to the aid of the overstretched inspector, as he attempts to find a way through the morass of lies, deception and corruption.
Once again, Amy must utilise all the investigative techniques she has learned from Agatha Christie’s famous detective to help bring a brutal killer to justice.
© Copyright T. A. Belshaw 2023
© Copyright SpellBound Books Ltd 2023
I am absolutely delighted to announce that I am one of the attending authors at the Tales on Trent Book Signing Event at the King’s Hall, Stoke on Trent on Sept 2nd 2023. Don’t be shy, come and say hi if you are attending.
I am delighted to announce the release of my first ever audiobook. Hopes and Fears, my wartime, home front, winter themed novel, narrated by the wonderful Deborah Balm, was released on the 17th January 2023. The audiobook is available on Amazon and iTunes at £7.99 and for 1 credit for Audible members.
FEATURING AMY ROWLINGS!
Christmas 1940. Despite the rationing and the Blackout, excitement at Mollison Farm is building as Alice and her workforce prepare for the annual Christmas Eve party. The snow has arrived, bang on time.
And this year, Alice has a big secret.
She has invited her evacuee children’s mother to spend a few precious days with her kids at Christmas, but disaster strikes and Alice is given the shock news that Rose’s home is now nothing more than a pile of bricks and the woman herself is missing, lost in the Blitz.
Amy, Alice’s best friend is despatched to the capital in a race against time, to find Rose and if possible, get her out of London.
As the search intensifies and the bombs start to fall again, Amy meets Rose’s sleazy husband Terry, a draft dodger, and Kevin, the ARP man with something to hide.
Meanwhile, on the farm, Stephen and Harriet discover the truth about their mother’s disappearance and Alice finds herself having to deal with the consequences.
The snow will fall and the farmyard carols will be sung, but will it be a happy Christmas on Mollison Farm?
Reviews
‘A very sweet and heart-warming read, perfect for the Christmas period, but enjoyable at any time. I loved the story and the cosy mystery vibe. ‘ Lynda Checkley.
‘In short, this is a race against time, with the backdrop of World War 2, and heavy snow, interspersed with wonderful characters a brilliant story and great ending. I may have shed a tear.’ Donna Morfett.
‘I loved the settings which were described so perfectly that I could have jumped into the book in amongst everything and not felt out of place.’ Kirsty Lock.
Hopes and Fears is the perfect audiobook to listen to in your favourite chair with a hot drink as the ice and snow covers the streets outside.
For anyone wishing to sign up to buy the book from Audible, please consider using SIGN UP FOR AUDIBLE AND BUY HOPES AND FEARS
For Amazon buyers here is the AMAZON UK LINKY THINGY
For US buyers. here is the AMAZON US LINKY THINGY
The audiobook is also available on iTunes by searching for Hopes and Fears audiobook.
Before you go. Here’s a sample.
My author newsletter for January 2023 is now available to view. Should you wish to subscribe there is a link to do so. You will not be bombarded with spam and your email details will be safe. This month you have a chance to win a signed paperback copy of my novel, Hopes and Fears. Please follw the link
I am delighted to announce the book tour for the third in the Tracy’s Hot Mail series, What Tracy Did Next, The Kiss and Tell Diaries.
Organised once again by the fab Zoe-Lee O’Farrell and her wonderful team of reviewers, the tour kicks off on the 9th January 2023. http://zooloosbooktours.co.uk
What Tracy did next is the usual mix of emails sent to her best friend Emma but this time we also get a few WhatsApp messages and posts copied from her last year at school diary and her first ever holiday diary.
TRACY RETURNS!
The gossip machine is back with more juicy titbits as Tracy casts her all-seeing eye over the lives of the people around her.
Tracy is in a quandary. Should she accept Detective Sergeant Neil Hartley’s marriage proposal? Is she truly ready for a life of domesticity while there are so many men she hasn’t met yet, so many places she hasn’t been, so many clothes she hasn’t tried on.
A lover of cloned, market stall fashion and the Primark sales rail, Tracy is still working the promotions circuit under the guidance of her uber-iffy agent, Shayne Slider.
What on earth are Faliraki Flaps? What really happened when Tracy went on holiday with her best friend, Emma? Get an insight into what she got up to in her last year at school as Tracy dips into her personal diaries and lifts the lid on her most intimate secrets.
What Tracy Did Next. An eye-opening giggle fest.
I am delighted to announce that the audiobook version of my Unspoken Christmas novel, Hopes and Fears is now complete.
Narrated by the extraordinary Deborah Balm, the title should be available on Audible by mid January.
I’d like to take this opportunity to thank Deborah for all her hard work and the speed with which she delivered such an exceptional production.
She is a very talented lady and I cannot recommend her highly enough.
For those thinking of putting their own books on audible, here’s a sample of her work on my book below. Her website, which contains many more samples can be found here. https://www.deborahbalm.com/
The book is also available in eBook and paperback formats. AMAZON LINKY THINGY You can also read for FREE with a Kindle Unlimited account.
I am delighted to announce the release of the fourth Tracy’s Hot Mail novella. Tracy’s 20’s Hot Mail.
HOW DID THAT HAPPEN!
Tracy is shocked to find that she’s hit her mid-twenties. Worried about her sagging boobs and her broadening bottom, she has scary visions of being thirty, middle aged and unable to get any celebrity work.
Fed up of the endless battles between her Marxist father and a grandmother that makes Attila the Hun look like Tinky Winky from the Teletubbies, she decides it’s time to flee the nest and moves into an ex-council flat on the rough side of town.
Deciding to hold a sophisticated dinner party, Tracy struggles to compile the perfect guest list. More problems arise when she is unable to follow a Nigella Bites recipe.
Will the party go with a bang? Will the people on her hastily assembled guest list hit it off? Why is that ‘tart’ Olivia suddenly in her thoughts? And what could possibly go wrong when Tracy lands a starring role in a remake of the pottery scene from the film, Ghost?
Tracy’s 20’s Hot Mail. Older doesn’t always mean wiser.
The book is available NOW on Amazon. eBook or paperback. FREE on Kindle Unlimited.
I would like to take this opportunity to wish all of my wonderful readers a Happy Christmas and a peaceful and prosperous New Year.
I’d also like to add a little bit of exciting news.
My Winter themed novel, Hopes and Fears is, at this moment, being recorded as an audiobook by the hugely talented, Deborah Balm. The recording should be available early in the New Year.
Peace and Love
T. A. Belshaw
2022 has been a good year for me book wise. I have released four books including two, new Tracy’s Hot Mail novellas and two Amy Rowlings mysteries that were published by SpellBound Books and sales have gone pretty well.
As a bonus, this month I got a mention in the fab Donna Morfett’s books of the year list and I was the recipient of an award and trophy, bestowed by the wonderful, Tales on Tuesday book group. I was honoured to be awarded the title, Professor of Poisons, following my authors talk to the group earlier in the month. The title was awarded because of my collection of research books on the subject and my use of three different poisons in my cosy crime novel, Death at the Lychgate.
Huge thanks to Donna for her support and to Claire Birkin and all the wonderful members of the Tales on Tuesday group for the fab award. Professor of Poisons has now been added as a by-line to my author name.
This was my fist effort at romance writing and was included in the bestselling, charity anthology, 100 Stories for Haiti, back in the day.
Dinner for Two
Has that clock stopped? No, my watch says the same time. Stop looking every thirty seconds, will you?
Maisie Connolly, this is your bloody fault. If it all goes wrong, I’ll never speak to you again.
Right, check the food, Sarah, it’s fine, you know it’s fine, you only checked it two minutes ago. Wine, where’s the bloo…okay, it’s on the table, should be room temperature by now. Maisie Connolly, if this wine isn’t as good as you promised you’ll be wearing it tomorrow. At twelve quid a bloody bottle it ought to be dynamite.
Check the mirror, sigh, I’m sure those lines round your mouth are getting deeper; you’ll need cement to fill them in if they get any worse.
What’s that? Was that a car? Dare you peek through the window? You don’t want him to catch you looking. Count to thirty and listen for the car door closing… thirty, no, can’t have been him.
I hope he likes classical music; those free CDs from the Sunday papers were worth keeping after all. Classical is a bit more sophisticated than Simply Red.
Hang on, daft girl; Simply Red is fine for that close up chat on the sofa later in the evening. Damn, where the hell is it?
Had to be in the bloody car, didn’t it? Right then, that’s Mozart for dinner and Mick Hucknall for afters, lovely.
Twenty-five past eight. This has to be the longest night of my life, are we stuck in a time warp or something?
Hope he likes the dress; check the mirror, not too much cleavage, not too short. Come on, Sarah, you’ve been through all this; it took you two hours to choose it. What if he comes in a suit though? Are you formal enough? No time to do anything about it now. I bet he wears a sodding suit.
Let’s hope it goes better than last time, eh? Note to self, if you spill the red wine over his trousers, don’t dab at his crotch with a napkin.
Why did you do that? You should have left it at a horrified, ‘sorry.’ It was his house; he could quite easily have nipped through to change. He ended up being more embarrassed than you did, and why did you keep bringing it up throughout the meal? Oh my God, then you go and lose a contact lens in the Beef Stroganoff.
I am one of the authors appearing at the 2023 Tales on Trent Multi Genre Author event. Signing opportunities on the day may be limited to how many books I can realistically take with me, so if you are attending and would like to pre order any of my novels I’ll make sure you get your copy at the event.
Books
Unspoken Trilogy.
Unspoken. the Legacy. The Reckoning,
Hopes and Fears. Unspoken Christmas story. Featuring Amy Rowlings
Amy Rowlings Mysteries.
Murder at the Mill. Death at the Lychgate.
Tracy’s Hot Mail Series.
Tracy’s Hot Mail. Tracy’s Celebrity Hot Mail. What Tracy Did Next. Tracy’s twenties Hot Mail.
Out of Control.
Payment by Paypal or on the day.
Thank you for your interest.
T. A. Belshaw
The Little Christmas Tree and Other Stories. The first new Trevor Forest children’s book to be published for five years is now available in eBook priced 99p and on Kindle Unlimited for FREE. Also available in paperback. Signed copies on requeast. A separate version of Faylinn Frost and the Snow Fairies is also available.
A small collection of short stories for kids of reading age or for parents to read to them at bedtime.
Stories include.
The Little Christmas Tree
Horace the Ogre
Harry’s Present
A Boxful of Wishes
Celia’s Question
Old Tom The Catnip King. (A poem about a lazy cat)
Clicking Gran. (Halloween Poem)
Faylinn Frost and the Snow Fairies (Full Book)
EPUB version available to reviewers on request.
The Little Christmas Tree and Other Stories will be released on Amazon within the next few days. The book is for kids of reading age or kids too young to read themselves but like a good story read to them in bed.
The book comprises of Five short stories and One funny poem.
The Little Christmas Tree (the last pine tree before the north pole. A 3300 word Christmas story.)
Horace the Ogre.
Harry’s Present. (a very short Christmas story.)
A Box Full Of Wishes.
Celia’s Question. (a short Christmas story.)
Clicking Gran (my almost famous Halloween poem.)
Faylinn Frost and the Snow Fairies (Complete Book)
The book will be priced at 99p.
Paperback will follow shortly.
More to follow.
I’ve been featured in the press again this week with my new cosy crime novel, Death at the Lychgate.
The release of a new paperback is always a proud moment. Death at the Lychgate. Available here… https://amzn.to/3TsYbe5
The paperback version of my Golden Age, cosy crime mystery, Death at the Lychgate was released by SpellBound Books Ltd on Oct 14th priced at just £8.99.
Signed author copies will be available on request by the beginning of November.
I’m delighted to announce the release on Amazon of What Tracy Did Next, the third book in the Tracy’s Hot Mail series.
TRACY RETURNS!
The gossip machine is back with more juicy titbits as Tracy casts her all-seeing eye over the lives of the people around her.
Tracy is in a quandary. Should she accept Detective Sergeant Neil Hartley’s marriage proposal? Is she truly ready for a life of domesticity while there are so many men she hasn’t met yet, so many places she hasn’t been, so many clothes she hasn’t tried on.
A lover of cloned, market stall fashion and the Primark sales rail, Tracy is still working the promotions circuit under the guidance of her uber-iffy agent, Shayne Slider.
What on earth are, Faliraki Flaps? What really happened when Tracy went on holiday with her best friend, Emma? Get an insight into what she got up to in her last year at school as Tracy dips into her personal diaries and lifts the lid on her most intimate secrets.
What Tracy Did Next. An eye-opening giggle fest.
Priced at a mere £1.99 for the eBook, that’s around a penny a chortle.
Artwork by the fabulous Zoe-Lee O’Farrell from Zooloo’s Book Tours (zooloosbooktours.co.uk)
I am delighted to announce the Tracy’s Tell Tale Tit Tour to promote the sequel to Tracy’s Hot Mail: Tracy’s Celebrity Hot Mail.
Once again, Tracy is sending her best friend Emma all the juicy gossip about her private life, family, friends and enemies.
Tracy has put her cloned SHOO high heels on the first rung of the celebrity ladder, starting with a soft butter spread promo at the local ASDA store.
The tour has been organised once again by the fabulous Zoe and he truly excellent team of bloggers from http://zooloosbooktours.co.uk
Starting on the 10th of Oct, the tour runs until the 16th.
Thanks in advance to everyone taking part.
The book is available on Amazon
The sequel to Murder at the Mill is finally here. Death at the Lychgate was released by SpellBound Books Ltd on Sept 30th. Many thanks to Zoe from http://zooloosbooktours.co.uk for putting together such a fabulous collection of book bloggers for the tour.
AMY ROWLINGS RETURNS!
Sunday morning, and the body of Reverend Villiers has been found propped up on the vigil seat in the church’s lychgate. It appears that he has been poisoned.
When amateur sleuth and regular churchgoer, Amy Rowlings arrives she finds DI Bodkin already at the scene. Bodkin tells her about a cryptic scripture reference that has been scrawled in chalk on the stone slabs beneath the body. What the citation hints at, shocks everyone.
Amy, a huge Agatha Christie fan is determined to get involved in the investigation and despite a stern warning from the detective’s boss, Amy and Bodkin team up again to try to solve the most complex murder case he has ever been involved in. When the toxicology report comes back from the lab, the results only add to the mystery.
Meanwhile, Amy looks to her favourite Agatha Christie character, Hercule Poirot for help, and using his techniques, she narrows down the list of possible murderers to just nine suspects.
An Interview with Tracy
Never one to pass up on an exclusive (nor Thornton’s Continental chocs for that matter, but that’s another story) Maureen Vincent-Northam was delighted to be asked to dig deep into Tracy’s sack of fan mail for Writelinkers. Disregarding the less genteel communications (toad in the hole will never seem the same) Maureen has chosen letters from typical Tracy fans and the star herself tells her many, and varied, admirers what they really want to know.
Tracy is a rarity in this day and age: a young woman whose underwear is not always in free-fall. The woman whose Hotmail exchanges with best friend Emma is about to take the literary world by storm is driven by the same modest ambitions all young women have: fame, fortune and an alphamale celeb hanging onto her arm.
Which celebrity would you say is most in need of a make-over?
Chelsea Trumper, Broadbottom, Cheshire
Tracy: Hello Chelsea. Is your dad one of those annoying people like David Beckham who name their kids after places they’ve visited? It’s a good job little Brooklyn wasn’t conceived in Peckham isn’t it?
Are we talking hair, clothes, or everything?
I think Janet Street Porter’s teeth could do with a serious file down. If I was her, I’d have them pulled and get a nice, new, even set of dentures put in. She could sell her real teeth to ivory poachers. That might save an elephant’s life and not only would she look better, she’d have something to feel good about.
Kim Kardashian really should do something about that arse and Brad Pitt looks like he’s been dragged through a dozen hedges, backwards. I wouldn’t mind having the job of tidying him up though.
If I had to choose someone that needs a total makeover, I’d go for that tart, Olivia. She looks like a slut on drugs at the moment. Her clothes look like she’s slept in them for a month and her makeup looks like its been applied with a pastry knife. That hair has to go; I bet there’s at least a dozen combs, two styling wands and a colony of bats in there. I saw her once in the queue outside Slappers nightclub. It was pissing down with rain but she didn’t need an umbrella, nothing got past that hair. I heard a rumour that David Attenborough is going in with a film crew soon.
Another one I’d like to see sorted out is Russell Brand. He’s a right scruffy bugger and has exactly the same hair as Olivia. What is it with these people, have they never heard of shampoo?
Why do you think you’ve been so unlucky with romance?
Ron Lovall, Herts
Tracy: Hi, Ron. Unlucky? I think I’ve been incredibly lucky. I’ve managed to get rid of the useless swine without too much trouble. Some women get stuck with a bloke for life. Imagine what Simon will be like in a few years time? He’s already porn obsessed. By the time he’s twenty-five he’ll be sneaking around in the fog wearing nothing but a dirty old mac and a pair of trainers. I reckon I had a lucky escape there.
As for Tim, I think I was lucky there too. He wants to be a farmer. That would mean me being a farmer’s wife. Sod that for a lark. I really can’t see me in wellies and a smock, can you? Some people are meant to wake up at the crack of dawn to the smell of cow shit, and some aren’t. I’m definitely in the second category. I would look ridiculous trying to dodge the cowpats in my fake Lanvin sandals, and the closest I ever want to come to a pig, is when it’s been sliced and fried and lying in a roll with some brown sauce.
You’d make a perfect WAG. Have you ever pursued a gorgeous footballer – or even Wayne Rooney?
Tiffany Pratt, Isle of Dogs
Tracy: Hi Tiffany. I think I’m too young for Wayne, he’d be more likely to go for Gran, and I’m not on the game so he wouldn’t be interested in me. I did go out with a footballer once, but he only played for the local pub team and I only went out with him because I wanted to prove a point to the Ginger minger he was seeing at the time.
Dad says I should become a WAG, but Gran says there’s a reason they call them that. They’re all dogs.
Given these two choices, would you rather be stinking rich or mega famous?
Tracy: Is that you Prince William? Nice to hear from you again. How’s the chopper? Still getting it up, I hope.
Hmm, tough question. I suppose if I had to choose I’d go for mega famous as I could always drop in on a celebrity mate if I had no money and I needed somewhere to crash for the night. Not that there would be many nights like that. Most celebs seem to cop-off with someone after they’ve been to one of those glitzy parties and I don’t think I would be any different. Anyway, if I was mega famous and skint, I could always go to a party wearing something a bit naughty and get interviewed by the Sun for a few quid.
Mega famous people probably get lots of free stuff when they open things, so I’d make sure I opened lots of supermarkets…and shoe shops of course. Stinking rich people tend to want to keep it all to themselves. That would rule Olivia out; she can’t keep anything to herself, especially her vagina.
When you go on Celebrities on Ice in the Jungle, what will you miss most about everyday life?
Precious Little, Watchet, Somerset
Tracy: Hi, Precious. I’d probably miss daydreaming about going on Celebrities on Ice in the Jungle.
What is your beauty routine and do you have any tips for your uglier fans?
Poppy Belcher, Diss, Norfolk
Tracy: Hello, We used to have a dog called Poppy but we got rid of her because she farted all the time and Dad was sick of getting the blame.
I don’t spend much time in front of the mirror because my housemate, Kiwi, will almost certainly be using it every time I want it. I’m lucky in that I can get away without having to do too much. Kiwi spends hours tarting herself up, and she still ends up looking like she’s let her seven-year-old sister do her face for her.
My best tip would be to buy the best make up you can afford. Don’t go for that crappy stuff they sell on the market, most of it doubles up as paint stripper. If you can’t afford good stuff, get some new friends who can. Girls are always on the lookout for ugly friends, as they make them look better on a night out. They’ll almost certainly let you use their make up if it means they’ll stand out in a crowd of munters.
Spotty Irene doesn’t look too good at times because of the terrible acne she suffers from. It doesn’t stop her trying to do something about it though. She once went to a fancy dress party, with a brown paper bag on her head. She told them she’d come as shopping.
There are a few ways of hiding your hideousness. You could be mysterious and wear a dark veil, but then people might just think you like going to funerals.
If you’re really ugly and desperate for a bloke, my tip would be to find one who wears specs like the bottom of beer glasses. If their eyes are that bad, they probably still won’t be able to see out of them properly. Of course you could just do what Olivia does, let blokes know you’re available, that always works after they’ve had ten pints.
If Hollywood made a movie about your life, whom would you like to see play you?
Scarlet Shufflebottom, Hollywood, Birmingham
Tracy: It would have to be Lady Gaga or someone classy like that.
What do you keep in your handbag?
Tarquin DeVere, Odness, Orkney Islands
Tracy: Hmm, you ought to know, Tarquin. It was you that opened it up in front of everyone at that student’s party. Playing mousy on a string with a Tampax wasn’t, isn’t, and never will be, funny.
For anyone who doesn’t know though, apart from the usual girly things like panty liners, a sanitary towel and a spare pair of knickers, I have a my iPhone, lip gloss, mascara, compact, needle and thread, a condom, hair scrunch, brush, comb, purse, bus pass, pen, notepad, tissues, mints, tube of superglue, attack alarm and mace spray.
What possession could you not do without?
Billy Lillycrap, Quidhampton, Hampshire
Tracy: My TV. I couldn’t live without Strictly and X Factor. If I’m allowed more I’d have to say my laptop and my fake Gucci bag…Oh and my signed photo of Beckham in his Speedos.
If you were a type of vegetable, what would you be?
Moonchild, a field in Glastonbury
Tracy: You’d have to ask Kiwi that, she’s the hippy, and she’s named after a fruit.
If you were abducted by aliens, what would be the first question you’d ask them?
Prof. Mycroft Nutt, Lower Piddle on the March, Glos.
Tracy: Do you get the X Factor in the Vernuvian Quadrant?
Who do you think you were in a past life?
Napoleon Bonaparte, Crackpot, North Yorkshire
Tracy: I sometimes have strange dreams about snakes, so Cleopatra probably.
Saturday Night Live… ish
Out on the eight, back on the ten-fifteen which came at ten-twelve and almost made me run to catch it. In the end I just performed a sort of quick shuffle down the street and made it with seconds to spare, who says this gym thing doesn’t work?
Tonight’s mission was to explore the sights and sounds of Parliament Street in Nottingham. There are lots of dens of iniquity to choose from, so I stepped off the bus and launched myself into the first of many pubs blasting out old seventies’ hits to their aging clientele. No pub or aging clientele names will be mentioned in this piece, partly to protect the innocent, but mostly to protect me the next time I go in any of them. I wrote a Saturday Night Live about my home town, Ilkeston once and it didn’t go down well in the Neanderthal Arms I can tell you.
The disco was in full swing as I walked into the pub. The queue at the bar was so long I had to queue to get into the queue. I thought I’d got the wrong bus and ended up in London at one point.
Finally, armed with a pint of John Smiths Extra Smooth bitter I fought my way through the melee and grabbed a foot of prime real estate next to the door where I could see the dancers giving their all, in front of a thirty-five-foot flat screen TV on which the old nineteen-seventies videos were being shown to accompany the music. They need a screen that size so the people who haven’t had their cataract operations yet, and came out without their hearing aids (AGAIN!) can join in with the fun.
I nearly shat myself when Phil Collins’ massive balding pate suddenly hit the screen. I was thirty feet away but it felt like he was right on top of me. Now, me and Phil don’t get on, so I tore my eyes away from the screen as Phil did his Voldemort impression whilst singing, ‘You can’t hurry love.’
You can hurry love, actually, Phil, I’ve managed to do it for years.
Sadly, Phil couldn’t hurry the song either, so I concentrated on the elderly dancers as they cavorted across the dance floor, waving arms, swinging hips and other body parts. One poor old sod was knocked clean off his feet by a pair of low-slung boobs that hit him right in the kisser as the owner of the said breasts, swung around to scream, ‘love don’t come easy,’ to the wrinkly old gal who was swinging her own bits, a few feet away.
I never did get Phil, but by the looks of it most of the geriatric gyrating ensemble did. The dance floor was heaving, a plethora of nineteen sixties style mini dresses, stocking tops, caked on makeup, slipping wigs and zimmers on wheels, and that was just the men.
I hung around, alternating between sips of my pint and mouthing the words to the Drifters, Saturday Night at the Movies. Mouthing to songs is a tradition in that pub. Everyone does it, even the people, like me, who actually know the words. The ones that don’t just open and shut their mouths like goldfish, as I said, it’s a tradition in there, no one wants to be seen flouting the rules.
From there I wandered across the road to the pub near the Theatre Royal. A DJ was installed at the end of the bar and I was treated to the rousing chorus from the Killers hit, Mr Brightside as I entered. This bar is populated by the late forties, early fifties set, you know the sort I mean. Men with shaved heads and women wearing push up bras so load bearing that their boobs are almost under their chins. There was so much bare flesh is on show, that they look like they’ve got a couple of the bald heads stuffed down their dresses.
The weird thing about this group of piss heads is their love for the Ibiza club anthems. It’s a scary sight when the first, boom boom, bass notes thud out, people don’t head for the dance floor, they just start thrashing around where they stand. Beer, gin and bald head tits are suddenly flung into the air as the middle-aged revellers relive their 1980s Spanish holidays.
I didn’t last long in there I can tell you. I’d already washed my hair before I went out, I didn’t need a beer shampoo.
The streets very packed as I stepped out of the bar and made my way down the slight incline towards the famous Motown pub. On the way I passed a few ‘homeless,’ people who were propped up in blankets calling out for loose change, gripping their cans of special brew as though it was their prized possession. I always give at least one of them a few coins as I pass by. I don’t judge. I’m about to get pissed so why shouldn’t they?
I haven’t been to Nottingham for about a year now, but I still recognise some of the ‘pro beggars’ that only ever show up on a Saturday. Their blankets are always spotless so it’s easy to pick them out.
The Motown pub was rammed, as usual. I spent a while in another long queue and looked around for David Beckham. Sadly, he wasn’t in this part of the queue so I smiled at the woman next to me and said,’ busy, isn’t it?’
She curled up her lip and looked at me like I’d just asked her for a shag. Turning to her flat faced mate, she flicked her head towards me and rolled her eyes. Her mate was not only flat faced, she had an incredible turned up nose. Now, I don’t mean one of those cute little noses you see in those period dramas, this one was turned up so much, she could look directly into her flared nostrils with just a slight movement of her eyes. I’d hate to be her if she got a bad cold. She’d be blinded with snot every time she sneezed. I got my revenge for the sullen looks by pushing in front of them at the bar. I won’t repeat the insult that flat face used when I turned away smirking into my pint, but it rhymes with punt.
I found a six-inch square piece of territory at a table near the front windows and spent an enjoyable ten minutes watching the septuagenarians swing their hips to the proper version of, you can’t hurry love. There were some younger women in there, but they were all surrounded by groups of bald, Junior Soprano lookalikes, who looked like they were waiting to dive into the buffet at a wedding. Lips smacked, saliva drooled and hands were reaching out in expectation. The women didn’t seem to mind, they were obviously used to being slavered over like some tasty morsel presented on a plastic platter.
Just then I was poked in the ribs by a bony elbow. I looked to the side where a woman wearing glasses as thick as the shatter-proof front window was looking up at me.
‘Sorry,’ she lied.
I smiled and went back to watching the men of the musical, meat market, stick out their chests and attempt to muscle the competition out of the way.
Suddenly the bony elbow found its target again. I winced. It felt like I had been skewered. She looked me in the eyes again. ‘Sorry,’ she lied, again.
She was a painfully thin woman of about sixty-five, wearing a tight-fitting dress that showed of her skeletal frame to perfection. She had a mop of red-dyed hair that perfectly matched the daub of lipstick that was smeared across her face. She looked like The Joker from the Batman movie.
‘Are you gay?’ she asked as I turned away again. ‘Only I’ve been trying to get your attention for ages and all you do is look at those men.’
I was sorely tempted to tell her that I was indeed, gay, and hope the news would encourage her to piss off. Like a fool, I told her I wasn’t.
‘Really,’ she replied. ‘You look gay.’
By now her three mates had become interested. They surrounded me, looking me up and down, pulling faces as they tried to make up their minds whether I was or wasn’t.
I gulped down my pint as fast as I could and headed towards the door.
‘He is,’ I head the chorus of crackly voices call as I stepped away.
Back on the street I found a doddering, ancient, foul mouthed, excuse for a man, trying to negotiate the price of a blow job with a middle-aged, blanket covered, greasy-haired woman whose mouth was ringed with scabs and sores. Apparently, he felt that a quid was a fair price. She wanted a tenner. I hope he raised his offer. She deserves the money and he deserves whatever disease he’ll wake up with in the morning. I shuddered at the thought of them performing and headed up the hill towards the bus stop.
The bus was pretty full but I managed to get a seat opposite a couple of pretty young girls. I didn’t smile at them; I’m a modern man and I know I’d only be accused of being an old pervert if I did.
One of the girls was wearing jeans and a crop top thing that left the bottom quarter of her breasts, exposed. The other was wearing a strip of fabric, so flimsy, it looked more of a waist sash than a dress. I gave her a cursory glance for five minutes, then looked to my side where a fifty-something woman with a mouth so small she would struggle to even make the ‘ooh,’ sound, was giving the girls a withering look.
‘Disgusting,’ she said, suddenly staring at me.
I didn’t know if she meant me or the girls to begin with. Then all became clear.
‘When I was young, I wore more than that when I had sex.’
I looked from her back to the two girls. That was another vision I desperately tried to push out of my mind.
The girl in the sash noticed that I was looking at her and gave me the finger. I blew out my cheeks. I didn’t have a lot of choice really as she was sitting directly opposite and I had to look somewhere. It was either that or pretend to be asleep but even then I’d probably be accused of thinking filthy thoughts.
The old codger on my right didn’t seem to care what the young girls thought of him.
‘KINNEL,’ he gasped as the girl crossed her legs. ‘It’s been a long time since I saw anything like that.’
‘I’ve NEVER seen anything like that,’ muttered his wrinkly mate on the seat next to him. ‘And I lived in Coventry for years and they used to give it away for a drag from your fag there.’
The girl gave them both the finger, then looked back at me as if she thought I had instigated the whole thing.
‘Pervert,’ she spat.’
I shrugged. I’ve been called worse and she was probably right anyway. So, not giving a flying one any longer. I stared straight ahead and gave her my best smile.
I ended up back at my local in Ilkeston where I am among friends… Mostly. I had a few more pints and managed to grab the last slow dance with a nice blonde lady of about my own age who, thankfully, wasn’t wearing either a wig, two inches of makeup or a nineteen sixties Mary Quant mini dress.
As I mentioned earlier. I am a modern man. I didn’t even try to copy a crafty feel.
Hi Emma,
I suppose you’ve heard the news about the Queen dying, it’s such sad news, isn’t it? She’s been on the throne so long that everyone on TV seems to have a different memory of her. I’ll always remember her producing a marmalade sandwich from her handbag when she had tea with Paddington Bear. That just shows what a good sense of humour she had. I mean, that sandwich must have made a right mess in her bag. Her lippy must have been covered in it.
She was a really lovely lady, wasn’t she, Emma? It was like the sun coming out from between dark clouds when she smiled and her eyes were piercing, even when she got a bit old and doddery.
What are we going to do without her, Em? I mean, she’s always been there hasn’t she. No matter how bad things got in the world she was there, giving us that smile and telling us everything was going to be okay. And it always was in the end. Remember in the pandemic when she said, ‘We’ll meet again?’ Even Gran cried at that. Apparently, she nicked the line from an old war time song, but so what? She can’t be expected to use a Taylor Swift song at her age, can she?
Mum says she’ll be back with Prince Phillip again now, so that’s something good to come out of it. I hope there’s someone waiting for me when I go, Em. As long as it’s not my ex, Simon. I can’t think about spending another hour in his company let alone eternity. I hope there’s someone else waiting for the queen too. I mean, she’ll be really happy to see Phillip I would imagine but she’ll want some friends around to have a good girly goss with, won’t she? Blokes never talk about anything other than football and politics, so she’d need a break from that. I’m sure she’ll want to know what her mates thinks about the latest episode of TOWIE or Love Island. That’s if they can get FREEVIEW up there… they must be able to… it’s beamed down from space, so she’ll probably get to know what happens before we do.
Mum has been crying a lot. She bursts into tears every time the BBC newsreader repeats the headline. Gran, an arch royalist, is made of sterner stuff. She took herself off to her room for a few moments of quiet reflection, then came back wearing a Sex Pistols t shirt she bought for the jubilee in 1976 and her union jack bloomers. Dad said she was being disrespectful, but Gran called him a commie fifth columnist. who had never liked, ‘Little Lizzie,’ and should be hung as a traitor.
Gran always calls the queen, ‘Little Lizzie as though she’s a girl that lived on her street when she was growing up. When we were having our tea, she told us about VE night in London on the day the war officially ended. The area outside Buckingham Palace was swarming with people and Gran, although she was only thirteen, went out to join them. She reckons she saw, Little Lizzie and her sister Margaret, dancing and singing along with the crowd on the Mall.
Gran told us about how she got snogged by a sailor that night. (Her not Little Lizzie). Dad said, that would have been the first of many over the years. Gran narrowed her eyes and said Dad was just jealous because even the most desperate of sailors wouldn’t snog him.
Dad is in a bit of an awkward place. He’s always been a republican and has often said, (mainly when under the influence of drink,) that the lot of them will be put up against the wall and shot when the revolution comes.
‘I didn’t mean her,’ he bleated when Gran reminded him of his drunken rants. ‘If she had stood for president, I would have voted for her.’
The news has hit Dad a lot harder than he will admit to. His voice keeps going croaky and he claimed the tears that were running down his face were the result of Mum putting too much chilli powder in the dinner. He finished his meal in silence, then said he was going to organise a whip round for her at the Labour Club. She has a lot of fans down there. He thinks they’ll easily raise enough to get a decent painting of her to go in the refurbished bar.
Mum and Gran are going to get the train to London tomorrow to lay some flowers outside Buckingham Palace. Dad said he hopes she’s going to put some clothes on before she goes but Gran said she intends to show her patriotism, so she’s going in her bloomers. Mum said she ought to wear a mac at least, just in case it rains.
I’m worried about money now, Emma. I got paid £300 cash in hand for judging that wet t shirt competition in Norks night club last Saturday and it might not be worth anything now she’s gone. I wonder if they’ll have an exchange scheme to swap the old coins and banknotes for ones with King Charles’s face on them when they’re minted?
It’s going to be really weird for Charles, isn’t it, Em? I mean, he’s going to have to stand at public events singing God Save The Queen even though he’s the King. I think they might bring out a new anthem for him to save him having to do that. I hope they make it something a bit livelier. Maybe they could get Ed Sheeran to write a new tune, he’d soon knock up a jolly ditty. I hope they don’t ask Adele; her songs are more dirge-like than our old anthem.
Right, I’m off now, Emma. I’m going to start a campaign to see if we can get our street renamed to Queen Elizabeth Way.
R.I.P. Little Lizzie. Thank you for everything you did for us.
Tracy. Sad.
Cover reveal for the revamped version of the second book in the Tracy’s Hot Mail series, Tracy’s Celebrity Hot Mail.
I’d like to thank Zoe-Lee O’Farrell of @zooloosBookTours for her stunning design. I absolutely love it. She’s really nailed Tracy. (no pun intended)
The back matter for book four of the Tracy’s Hot Mail series. Look out for the cover reveal. OUT SOON!
HOW DID THAT HAPPEN!
Tracy is shocked: she’s hit her mid-twenties. Worried her boobs are sagging and her bottom broadening, she has scary visions of being thirty, middle aged and unable to get any celebrity work.
Fed up of the endless battles between her Marxist father and a grandmother that makes Attila the Hun look like Tinky Winky from the Teletubbies, she decides it’s time to flee the nest and moves into an ex-council flat on the rough side of town.
Deciding to hold a sophisticated dinner party, Tracy struggles to compile the perfect guest list. More problems hit when following a Nigella Bites recipe as her culinary idol only, ‘cooks in French.’
Will the party go with a bang? Will the people on her hastily assembled guest list hit it off? Why is that ‘tart’ Olivia suddenly in her thoughts? And what could possibly go wrong when Tracy lands a starring role in a remake of the pottery scene from the film, Ghost?
Tracy’s Twenties Hot Mail. Older doesn’t always mean wiser.
I’m delighted to reveal the back of the book blurb for the third book in the Tracy’s Hot Mail series, What Tracy Did Next.
TRACY RETURNS!
The gossip machine is back with more juicy titbits as Tracy casts her all-seeing eye over the lives of the people around her.
Tracy is in a quandary. Should she accept Detective Sergeant Neil Hartley’s marriage proposal? Is she truly ready for a life of domesticity while there are so many men she hasn’t met yet. So many places she hasn’t been, so many clothes she hasn’t tried on.
A lover of cloned, market stall fashion and the Primark sales rail, Tracy is still working the promotions circuit under the guidance of her uber-iffy agent, Shayne Slider.
What on earth are, Falaraki Flaps? What really happened when Tracy went on holiday with her best friend, Emma? Get an insight into what she got up to in her last year at school as Tracy dips into her personal diaries and lifts the lid on her most intimate secrets.
What Tracy Did Next. An eye-opening giggle fest.
I’m delighted to announce the revamp and relaunch of my ever popular, Tracy’s Hot Mail series.
The books are being re-themed to give Tracy a new fresh look. The cover has been designed by the uber-talented Zoe O’Farrell from ZooloosBookTours https://zooloosbooktours.co.uk and I couldn’t be happier with what she came up with.
Their are now four books in the Tracy series. Tracy’s Hot Mail, Tracy’s Celebrity Hot Mail, What Tracy Did Next and Tracy’s Twenties Hot Mail. All the books will be released in September 2022.
Here’s the cover of the first book. Zoe imagined Tracy exactly as I do when I’m writing the books. She’s perfect.
I’ll be releasing the rest as they launch.
September not only sees the release of my second Amy Rowlings cosy crime, murder mystery: Death at the Lychgate but also two BRAND NEW Tracy’s Hot Mail books.
What Tracy Did Next and Tracy’s Twenties Hot Mail will be released very soon. The two existing books in the series, Tracy’s Hot Mail and Tracy’s Celebrity Hot Mail are having a revamp and all four books will now be seen with brand new, series themed covers designed by the wonderful Zoe O’Farrell.
Hello everyone. Thanks for dropping by on the publication day for Murder at the Mill, my Agatha Christie era, cosy crime novel.
Firstly I’d like to thank everyone at SpellBound Books for making this possible. Hon mentions must go to Sumaira, Nikki, Dee, Zoe and Kate, thank you for making this such a pleasant and easy process for me.
The sequel to Murder at the Mill is called Death at the Lychgate and once again stars Amy, our twenty one year old amateur sleuth, and DS Bodkin, the policeman with more of a heart than he admits to owning. The book will be released by Spellbound Books in November 2022.
Finally I’d like to thank all of my lovely, loyal readers who have stuck with me through thick and thin. You are all wonderful.
Murder at the Mill is only 99p for the kindle version. A true bargain. Buy link below.
Provisional back of the book blurb for the new Amy Rowlings cosy crime murder mystery.
Set in the spring of 1939.
AMY ROWLINGS RETURNS!
Sunday morning, and the body of Reverend Villiers has been found propped up on the vigil seat in the church’s lychgate. It appears that he has been poisoned.
When amateur sleuth and regular churchgoer, Amy Rowlings arrives she finds DI Bodkin already at the scene. Bodkin tells her about a cryptic scripture reference that has been scrawled in chalk on the stone slabs beneath the body. What the citation hints at, shocks everyone.
Amy, a huge Agatha Christie fan is determined to get involved in the investigation and despite a stern warning from the detective’s boss, Amy and Bodkin team up again to try to solve the most complex murder case he has ever been involved in. When the toxicology report comes back from the lab, the results only add to the mystery.
Meanwhile, Amy looks to her favourite Agatha Christie character, Hercule Poirot for help, and using his techniques, she narrows down the list of possible murderers to just nine suspects.
Can Amy fit together the jigsaw of clues to solve this, the most complex of cases?
I’m absolutely delighted to reveal the new cover for my cosy crime murder mystery, Murder at the Mill.
The Agatha Christie era cover was designed by the fabulous Nikki East of Spellbound Books Ltd who will be publishing the novel on July 7th.
𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐀𝐋I have just typed The End on the second of the new Tracy’s Hot Mail novellas. This one is called Tracy’s Twenties Hot Mail and the story, as the title hints, takes Tracy from her wild teens and into (as she sees it) a more mature and sophisticated era. As the panto line goes, Oh No It Doesn’t.
The first of the novellas has yet to be given its final title. At the moment it has a working title of Tracy’s Hot Mail, The Missing Years. The book takes a look at Tracy’s life and what happened to her after the final chapter of Tracy’s Celebrity Hot Mail which was published in 2016.
Both books will be published by Spellbound Books Ltd at a date yet to be announced.
My new Book Review and Author Interview Blog opened today featuring reviews of books by Joy Wood and Shani Struthers. You can find it here.
https://blog.trevorbelshaw.com
An Interview with Tracy, conducted by y fab editor Maureen Vincent-Northam
Never one to pass up on an exclusive (nor Thornton’s Continental chocs for that matter, but that’s another story) Maureen Vincent-Northam was delighted to be asked to dig deep into Tracy’s sack of fan mail for Writelinkers. Disregarding the less genteel communications (toad in the hole will never seem the same) Maureen has chosen letters from typical Tracy fans and the star herself tells her many, and varied, admirers what they really want to know.
Tracy is a rarity in this day and age: a young woman whose underwear is not always in free-fall. The woman whose Hotmail exchanges with best friend Emma is about to take the literary world by storm is driven by the same modest ambitions all young women have: fame, fortune and an alphamale celeb hanging onto her arm.
Chelsea Trumper, Broadbottom, Cheshire
Tracy: Hello Chelsea. Is your Dad one of those annoying people like David Beckham who name their kids after places they’ve visited? It’s a good job little Brooklyn wasn’t conceived in Peckham isn’t it?
Are we talking hair, clothes, or everything?
I think Janet Street Porter’s teeth could do with a serious file down. If I was her, I’d have them pulled and get a nice, new, even set of dentures put in. She could sell her real teeth to ivory poachers. That might save an elephant’s life and not only would she look better, she’d have something to feel good about.
Jennifer Saunders really should do something about that arse and Brad Pitt looks like he’s been dragged through a dozen hedges, backwards. I wouldn’t mind having the job of tidying him up though.
Ron Lovall, Herts
Tracy: Hi, Ron. Unlucky? I think I’ve been incredibly lucky. I’ve managed to get rid of the useless swine without too much trouble. Some women get stuck with a bloke for life. Imagine what Simon will be like in a few years time? He’s already porn obsessed. By the time he’s twenty five he’ll be sneaking around in the fog wearing nothing but a dirty old mac and a pair of trainers. I reckon I had a lucky escape there.
As for Tim, I think I was lucky there too. He wants to be a farmer. That would mean me being a farmer’s wife. Sod that for a lark. I really can’t see me in wellies and a smock can you? Some people are meant to wake up at the crack of dawn to the smell of cow shit, and some aren’t. I’m definitely in the second category. I would look ridiculous trying to dodge the cowpats in my fake Lanvin sandals, and the closest I ever want to come to a pig, is when it’s been sliced and fried and lying in a roll with some brown sauce.
Tiffany Pratt, Isle of Dogs
Tracy: Hi Tiffany. I think I’m too young for Wayne and I’m not on the game so he wouldn’t be interested in me. I did go out with a footballer once, but he only played for the local pub team and I only went out with him because I wanted to prove a point to the Ginger minger he was seeing at the time.
Dad says I should become a WAG, but Gran says there’s a reason they call them that. They’re all dogs.
Tracy: Is that you Prince William? Nice to hear from you again. How’s the chopper? Still getting it up, I hope.
Hmm, tough question. I suppose if I had to choose I’d go for mega famous as I could always drop in on a celebrity mate if I had no money and I needed somewhere to crash for the night. Not that there would be many nights like that. Most celebs seem to cop-off with someone after they’ve been to one of those glitzy parties and I don’t think I would be any different. Anyway, if I was mega famous and skint, I could always go to a party wearing something a bit naughty and get interviewed by the News of the World for a few quid.
Mega famous people probably get lots of free stuff when they open things, so I’d make sure I opened lots of supermarkets…and shoe shops of course. Stinking rich people tend to want to keep it all to themselves. That would rule Olivia out; she can’t keep anything to herself, especially her bed.
Precious Little, Watchet, Somerset
Tracy: Hi, Precious. I’d probably miss daydreaming about going on Celebrities on Ice in the Jungle.
Poppy Belcher, Diss, Norfolk
Tracy: Hello, We used to have a dog called Poppy but we got rid of her because she farted all the time and Dad was sick of getting the blame.
I don’t spend much time in front of the mirror because my housemate, Kiwi, will almost certainly be using it every time I want it. I’m lucky in that I can get away without having to do too much. Kiwi spends hours tarting herself up, and she still ends up looking like she’s let her seven year old sister do her face for her.
My best tip would be to buy the best make up you can afford. Don’t go for that crappy stuff they sell on the market, most of it doubles up as paint stripper. If you can’t afford good stuff, get some new friends who can. Girls are always on the lookout for ugly friends, as they make them look better on a night out. They’ll almost certainly let you use their make up if it means they’ll stand out in a crowd of munters.
Spotty Irene doesn’t look too good at times because of the terrible acne she suffers from. It doesn’t stop her trying to do something about it though. She once went to a fancy dress party, with a brown paper bag on her head. She told them she’d come as shopping.
There are a few ways of hiding your hideousness. You could be mysterious and wear a dark veil, but then people might just think you like going to funerals.
If you’re really ugly and desperate for a bloke, my tip would be to find one who wears specs like the bottom of beer glasses. If their eyes are that bad they probably still won’t be able to see out of them properly. Of course you could just do what Olivia does, let blokes know you’re available, that always works after they’ve had ten pints.
Scarlet Shufflebottom, Hollywood, Birmingham
Tracy: It would have to be Lady Gaga or someone classy like that.
Tarquin DeVere, Odness, Orkney Islands
Tracy: Hmm, you ought to know, Tarquin. It was you that opened it up in front of everyone at that student’s party. Playing mousy on a string with a Tampax wasn’t, isn’t, and never will be, funny.
For anyone who doesn’t know though, apart from the usual girly things like panty liners, a sanitary towel and a spare pair of knickers, I have a my phone, ipod, lip gloss, mascara, compact, needle and thread, a condom, hair scrunch, brush, comb, purse, bus pass, pen, notepad, tissues, mints, tube of superglue, attack alarm and mace spray.
Billy Lillycrap, Quidhampton, Hampshire
Tracy: My TV. I couldn’t live without Strictly and X Factor. If I’m allowed more I’d have to say my laptop and my fake Gucci bag…Oh and my signed photo of Beckham in his Speedos.
Moonchild, a field in Glastonbury
Tracy: You’d have to ask my flatmate, Kiwi that, she’s the hippy, and she’s named after a fruit.
Prof. Mycroft Nutt, Lower Piddle on the March, Glos.
Tracy: Do you get the X Factor in the Vernuvian Quadrant?
Napoleon Bonaparte, Crackpot, North Yorkshire
Tracy: I sometimes have strange dreams about snakes, so Cleopatra probably.
HOT NEWS!
Hi, I’m Tracy of Tracy’s Hot Mail fame and I’m so excited to tell you about the new book that’s going to be written about me.
If you can remember that far back, I was first seen in a book called Tracy’s Hot Mail where I shared all the office gossip from when I started my first job. The second book was called Tracy’s Celebrity Hot Mail and that was all about me and my new career as a D list celebrity, appearing at my local Asda store with a plastic knife and a stock of inch-long chunks of crusty bread, posing as Mary from the Dairy, (Mary Spreads Them For You) trying to persuade people to buy their new tub of soft butter. I also appeared in a Get Me Out of Here clone event called Babes in the Wood with that hot lesbian celebrity, Fanny Tickle.
The new book is all about me as I leave my wild teen years behind and hit my twenties (though there will be a few revealing extracts from the diary I kept in my last year at school. ) I’m going to let you have a bird’s eye view into my doings. (That sounds like something Gran might say after spending an hour on the loo, grunting and cursing. Her bowels aren’t what they used to be, bless her.)
You’ll find I’m a lot more sophisticated now, at least I think I am. I’ll still be dishing the dirt on that old tart, Olivia though. Did you know some fool actually got her pregnant and married her? Not that it lasted, the old slapper was caught in fragrant … is that how you say it? in the back of a van with an East European painter and decorator called Ivan. Once a tart…
There’s even more exciting news to come, but I’ll leave that until my new publisher, Spellbound Books Ltd announce it. Suffice to say, you’ll be seeing and hearing a lot more about me on all social media platforms.
If you’d rather read the story on your tablet, phone of computer, you can download it from the link above.
Journal: 1st November. 2011.
I’m sick to death of these bloody Zombies, they are everywhere now. I can’t walk down the street without being accosted by them. They’re in the library, my local pub, and the gym. When I’m at home they squash their faces up against my windows and peer through my letterbox. I can’t escape them. They don’t want to bite me, eat me or rip off bits of my body, it’s much worse than that. They want to recite poetry to me.
It’s a waste of time trying to hide from them, they smell my fear. They know that as soon as I hear the opening line of ‘The Lady of Shalott,’ I break out in a cold sweat. They could sniff me out hiding in lead box in a disused tin mine.
I wasn’t always afraid of poetry, I used to quite like Pam Ayers on that TV talent show. It’s the repetition that gets to me, the dreadful monotone chanting. Hearing one Zombie do it is bad enough but when there are thirty, fifty…
That’s how they turn you. They don’t need to bite. It’s a slow brainwashing process and its effects are devastating. My girlfriend and my two best friends have already succumbed. One day they were normal people headbanging to Metallica, the next they were sticking their heads through my open bathroom window mumbling some Scottish nonsense about a wee timorous beastie.
I bumped into then again when I went to steal supplies from the looted supermarket. They were staggering along the High Street with about half a dozen others, arms held in front, fixed stare, bits of rotting flesh dropping everywhere. Pam spotted me as I came out with my box of scavenged food. I started to run but tripped over a discarded foot and went my length on the tarmac. Before I could get to my feet, my ears were assailed by an horrific recital of a Lord Byron lament.
And thou art dead, as young and fair
As aught of mortal birth,
And form so soft, and charms so rare,
Too soon returned to Earth!
After the tenth reprise I could stand it no longer and I kicked, spat and fought my way from beneath their fixed eyes and cruel tongues. I ran like the hounds of hell were on my tail and made it back home, bruised and soiled, but still able to sing Stairway to Heaven.
After posting up a free download of my kid’s Christmas Story, The Little Christmas Tree, I was asked if I had one for adults. So here it is; A Christmas story for grown ups.
Desperate Measures.
I hope you enjoy the read.
I’m delighted to reveal the wonderful cover for my work in progress, Death at the Lychgate.
The cover is, as usual designed by the uber-talented Jane Dixon-Smith, who was recently honoured for her work by the Romantic Novelists Association.
The book, tells how amateur sleuth, Amy Rowlings teams up once again with Detective Sergeant Bodkin to solve a fiendishly cunning murder mystery.
The book should be available early in 2022.
First
ever video so please excuse the quality. I’ll get better with practice.
Alice
Saturday 14th December
At twelve o’clock we sat in the tea shop in town looking out of the fogged-up window as we sipped our hot drinks and nibbled at the dry cake that tasted as though it had spent a day too long under the glass counter. Stephen, bored as usual, began to draw with his finger in the condensation on the shop window. After twenty minutes I put him out of his misery and we got to our feet and made for the door, moving aside to allow a pair of elderly ladies to enter.
‘Thank you, dears,’ the first of the pensioners smiled at the children. ‘I’m ready for a cuppa, I’m parched.’
‘I wouldn’t bother with the sponge cake,’ Stephen advised. ‘You’ll be even parchder.’ He looked at me quizzically as I tried to usher him out of the café before he got us into trouble. ‘Is parchder a word?’ he asked.
Outside, the Saturday lunchtime streets were full of shoppers. Jam-packed buses trundled along the narrow town roads as the half day Saturday workers made their way home from the factories. The bustling market place echoed with the shouts of, ‘Plums, get your lovely plums, they’re big, they’re beautiful just like your… mums,’ and ‘sprouts and cabbage, fresher than your lodger, put it on a plate for him, girls, he’ll love you for it.’
Just to frighten even more readers away I’ve had some professional author photos done. Many thanks to Paul Haynes from the Old Mill studio, Belper St. Ilkeston for the fabulous images.
Hopes and Fears, My new Christmas novel was released on October 9th in Kindle and Paperback.
Say hi to the 1940 set of characters from the Unspoken and Murder at the Mill series.
https://amzn.to/2X6oJue
My October Newsletter is now being sent out. If you’d like to subscribe please click the following link to get regular updates on new books, competitions and a few fun facts.
As publication day approaches, I’m delighted to reveal the full cover of my Christmas novel, Hopes and Fears, designed as always by the wonderful Jane Dixon-Smith of JDSmith-Design
Set in Christmas 1940 the story tells the tale of Alice and her best friend Amy who are determined to reunite Stephen and Harriet, Alice’s evacuees, with their mother, Rose, who is lost in the Blitz.
Hopes and Fears. An Unspoken Christmas Story.
Christmas 1940. Despite the rationing and the Blackout, excitement at Mollison Farm is building as Alice and her workforce prepare for the annual Christmas Eve party. The snow has arrived, bang on time.
And this year, Alice has a big secret.
She has invited her evacuee children’s mother to spend a few precious days with her kids at Christmas, but disaster strikes and Alice is given the shock news that Rose’s home is now nothing more than a pile of bricks and the woman herself is missing, lost in the Blitz.
Amy, Alice’s best friend is despatched to the capital in a race against time, to find Rose and if possible, get her out of London.
As the search intensifies and the bombs start to fall again, Amy meets Rose’s sleazy husband Terry, a draft dodger, and Kevin, the ARP man with something to hide.
Meanwhile, on the farm, Stephen and Harriet discover the truth about their mother’s disappearance and Alice finds herself having to deal with the consequences.
The snow will fall and the farmyard carols will be sung, but will it be a happy Christmas on Mollison Farm?
I am delighted to announce that the Unspoken Trilogy, consisting of The Dual Timeline Family sagas, Unspoken, The Legacy and The Reckoning have now been released as a single box set volume on Amazon.
HOPES AND FEARS
An Unspoken Christmas Story
I am beyond delighted to reveal the fabulous cover for my work in progress, the Unspoken Christmas Novella, Hopes and Fears.
As usual, the cover has been designed by the wonderfully talented, Jane Dixon Smith of JD Smith Design
The story is set at Christmas in 1940 where Alice is at the farm with her young daughter, Martha and her two evacuee children, Harriet and Stephen who are both excited at the prospect of receiving a visit from their mother, Rose, who still lives in blitz ravaged London.
The Village
A Thousand Years of Division
The village of Kirkby Sutton is a conglomerate and an enigma. Formed by the merging of two villages that had outgrown their ability to remain separate as an entity, it nevertheless retains two extremely different and specific identities. One half, as its name suggests, is built around the church and is a (mainly) well-to-do haven of respectability with its Georgian Manor, leafy wide-verged streets lined with large, detached houses, driveways, off road parking and a library. There is also a small 1960s estate, a mix of three bedroomed, privately-owned houses, with an enclave of housing association tenants bolted on for political expediency.
Down the hill, the other half of the village contains a higgledy-piggledy, hotchpotch of stone cottages, modern town houses and rows of Victorian terraces, originally built for the employees at the local lace factory, brewery and estate workers, who made the short trip up the road to toil on the farms of Lord Beresford on the other side of the village. Nowadays, the descendants of those workers still live in the red brick terraces but are mostly employed by industries in the nearby cities of Nottingham and Derby.
The rivalry of its residents compares to any found in much larger towns and cities. You would be hard pressed to find as much animosity at a local Derby football match in Liverpool or Manchester. The annual village fair, which includes a fiercely fought tug-of-war competition, held on a boozy bank holiday weekend, regularly turns violent. For years, a police sergeant from the small town of Higton was paid to referee the event, but when the ageing sergeant retired and the police station was closed down to save money in the 1950s, the residents were left to sort out their own mess, so a committee, made up of the vicar’s wife and a group of teetotal residents from both sides, sat in sober judgment over the proceedings. To this day, the committee still rules on complaints and accusations made by one side against the other. Most of the grievances are easily dismissed, but on a few occasions a vote has to be taken with the chairperson, a lady with no connection to either side of the village holding the casting vote.
I am delighted to announce the release of the eBook version of my new novel, The Reckoning.
The Reckoning is the third and final part of the Unspoken trilogy, following on from the original Unspoken novel and the sequel, The Legacy.
The Official back of the book blurb.
Unspoken Book Three. The Reckoning.
After a fractious few months trying to appease her dysfunctional family, Jessica Griffiths realises that her great grandmother Alice’s legacy has become a millstone around her neck.
With her feisty elderly relatives cruising around the South China Sea she is hoping for a less stressful time, but when Leonora, the meddling ex-wife of her lawyer boyfriend begins to plot and with her own ex, Calvin unable to accept that their relationship is over, she begins to feel the pressure mounting again.
Into the mix walks Josh, the handsome young café owner. Jess is drawn to him immediately. Will he be the one to finally break the Mollison man curse?
Jessica discovers new family secrets as she continues to read through Alice’s wartime diaries but more shocks await as Martha hands over her own disturbing memoirs.
With the cruise ship in trouble and problems nearer to home, Jess finds herself at the centre of another family maelstrom.
Feeling desperately alone and with the weight of the world on her shoulders, can she weather the storm with her family and sanity intact?
The eBook is available from
and also on Kindle Unlimited.
A paperback version will be available in August.
I am delighted to announce that The Reckoning is now complete and will be published in eBook format during the week beginning the 18-7-21. The paperback version requires more time to proof for printing so will be a couple of weeks later.
The Reckoning is the third and final book in the Unspoken series and follows on from, Unspoken and The Legacy. It will also be the final time you see this set of characters together in a book.
The back of the book blurb.
Unspoken. Part Three
After a fractious few months trying to appease her dysfunctional family, Jessica Griffiths realises that her great grandmother Alice’s legacy has become a millstone around her neck.
With her feisty elderly relatives cruising around the South China Sea she is hoping for a less stressful time, but when Leonora, the meddling ex-wife of her lawyer boyfriend begins to plot and with her own ex, Calvin unable to accept that their relationship is over, she begins to feel the pressure mounting again.
Into the mix walks Josh, the handsome young café owner. Jess is drawn to him immediately. Will he be the one to finally break the Mollison man curse?
Jessica discovers new family secrets as she continues to read through Alice’s wartime diaries but more shocks await as Martha hands over her own disturbing memoirs.
With the cruise ship in trouble and problems nearer to home, Jess finds herself at the centre of another family maelstrom.
Feeling desperately alone and with the weight of the world on her shoulders, can she weather the storm with her family and sanity intact?
I am absolutely thrilled to announce that I have signed a publishing contract with the fabulous Spellbound Books Ltd.
My first novel for Spellbound, a cosy crime mystery, will be published in early 2022.
Many thanks to Sumaira Wilson and Nikki East from Spellbound. I hope we have many successful years working together.
Alice. September 1940.
‘Don’t forget we’re all going to Old Jack Tanner’s funeral tomorrow. They’re having a special evening service to allow as many people as possible to pay their respects.’
‘I haven’t forgotten, Barney. It’s not often we get to say goodbye to a local hero.’
‘The funeral is taking place at six-thirty. It’s family only in the church but we’re all allowed to line the path from the lychgate to the front porch. I’ll be disappointed if we don’t get half the town turning out.’
I walked slowly back to the farmhouse, deep in thought. Old Jack had been almost eighty. He had part-owned a small fishing boat that was kept at Margate. During June, Jack and his younger brother, Cecil, answered the government call and had met up with the rest of Operation Dynamo’s little ships at Ramsgate where they sailed across the channel to Dunkirk to rescue our army that was besieged there. Not satisfied with rescuing a dozen men, as soon as they had disembarked, he set off again to bring back another dozen, but on that trip, he caught a bullet in his back, a wound from which he never fully recovered.
On Wednesday evening, we arrived at the church to find hundreds of people lining the pavements waiting for the horse-drawn carriage carrying Old Jack’s coffin to arrive. Barney, Miriam, Stephen, Harriet and all of our remaining farm workers, found a place on the paved avenue that led from the lychgate to the church. By the time the hearse arrived, the crowd was three deep on either side of the path. We broke into spontaneous applause as Jack’s younger brother, Cecil, led Old Jack and his family down the hill towards the church. At the entrance, on either side, a dozen soldiers stood to attention and saluted as the coffin was carried in.
Forty minutes later, the soldiers saluted again as Jack was carried out. By now, as Barney had predicted, it seemed that half of the residents of the town were lining the pathway, or standing among the gravestones to see our own hero off.
No doubt, over the next few years, many a local hero will pass through the lychgate, or will be remembered in our prayers at the cenotaph on Armistice Day, but today was special, we buried our first.
I had managed to hold it together until, as the coffin passed us by, Stephen, our child evacuee, stood rigid and saluted as though the king himself was standing in front of him. I placed my hand on his back and wept as I thought about the fathers, husbands and sons that Old Jack had rescued and how grateful they and their families must be feeling to an old man who had done his bit. Then I thought about our farm’s own heroes, the lads who had signed up on the first day of war and had been sent off to fight and maybe die in some foreign land. We had heard nothing from any of them since July, when Benny’s pregnant wife received a heavily redacted letter, saying he was alive and well and looking forward to seeing us all again.
I’m not a particularly religious person, but as Old Jack’s coffin was lowered into his newly dug grave, I sent up a prayer to God, asking him to receive our hero into his care, then I begged him to ask his angels to keep an eye on our farm boys, wherever they were in the world.
I am delighted to announce that the cover for my work in progress. The Reckoning has been revealed today.
I would like to thank my fab cover artist, Jane Dixon-Smith http://www.jdsmith-design.com/ once again for the wonderful artwork.
The book, which is the final part of the Unspoken Family Saga trilogy, will be released on the Authors Reach label, in the summer.
I always like to get the cover out early, not just to generate interest in the book but to help inspire me when writing it.
The Saga Continues
It’s here at last. The Legacy has been released on Amazon UK. Amazon.com are a few hours behind and the book will be released shortly.
The Legacy
In Unspoken, Alice is the feisty, almost 100-year-old who shares a dark secret with Jessica, her great granddaughter. She is also the naïve 18-year-old who, following the death of her father in 1938 is forced to take over the running of the family farm, whilst single and pregnant. In The Legacy, her voice crosses the decades again as she gives her take on the events leading to the start of WW2.
Jessica
Jessica is a journalist researching a novel based on Alice’s memoirs. She is in a relationship with the narcissist, Calvin. In The Legacy, we find out how that relationship has evolved and whether either of them can move on.
Martha. The Matriarch
In Unspoken we learned about Martha’s strained relationship with her mother, Alice. In The Legacy we find out much more about Martha and her motives.
Marjorie The Mouse
Marjorie is Alice’s youngest daughter. A spinster who hides behind her older sister’s skirts.
Nicola and Owen. Addicted to drink, gambling, and each other.
In Unspoken, Jessica’s parents have their own issues, both with Alice and Jessica. In The Legacy, their problems burst like an untreated abscess.
Bradley
The handsome lawyer with a link to Alice’s past.
Ewan
The charity worker who has been in love with Jessica since their schooldays.
Wade.
A much needed, I.T expert, but is he trustworthy?
I’ve been writing about my new release, (my first on the Authors Reach platform,) on the Authors Reach Blog today.
The Legacy will be released in ebook format on 12th Marc 2021.
The Legacy. Who’s who.
Alice… Alice? Who the f… is Alice?
In Unspoken, Alice is the feisty, almost 100-year-old who shares a dark secret with her great granddaughter. She is also the naïve young girl who, following the death of her father in 1938 is forced to take over the running of the family farm, whilst single and pregnant. In The Legacy, her voice crosses the decades again as she relates the events that lead up to the start of WW2.
Jessica
Jessica is a journalist researching a novel based on Alice’s memoirs. She is in a relationship with the narcissist, Calvin. In The Legacy, we find out how that relationship has evolved and whether either of them can move on.
Martha. The Matriarch
In Unspoken we learned about Martha’s strained relationship with her mother, Alice. In The Legacy we find out much more about Martha and her motives.
Marjorie The Mouse
Marjorie is Alice’s youngest daughter. A spinster who hides behind her older sister’s skirts.
Nicola and Owen. Addicted to drink, gambling, and each other.
In Unspoken, Jessica’s parents have their own issues, both with Alice and Jessica. In The Legacy, their problems burst like an untreated abscess.
Bradley
The handsome lawyer with a link to Alice’s past.
Ewan
The charity worker who has been in love with Jessica since their schooldays.
Wade.
A much needed, I.T expert, but is he trustworthy?
Unspoken Book Two. The Legacy.
Where there’s a will there’s a rift.
The Legacy continues the story of Jessica Griffiths and her fractious relationship with her grandmother, Martha, her gambling addicted father and her narcissistic ex, Calvin who refuses to accept that their relationship is over.
Jessica an aspiring novelist, is writing a book based on her great grandmother’s hand written memoirs. Still grieving for Alice, she receives a telephone call that will change her life, and her relationship with her family, forever.
During the process she meets Bradley, a handsome young lawyer. Calvin, meanwhile, believes he can work his way back into Jess’s life by fair means or foul.
When Martha, the matriarch, complains that she hasn’t been treated fairly, she puts pressure on her granddaughter to ‘do the right thing.’ Meanwhile, Jessica’s father returns with the loan sharks on his tail.
As Jessica prays that the ‘man curse’ which has plagued the women in her family for generations, has finally been vanquished, she meets the beautiful, calculating, Leonora, a woman with a secret and a fondness for mischief.
I am delighted to reveal the fabulous cover for my next novel, the sequel to the family saga, Unspoken. I’d like to thank the wonderful Jane Dixon Smith, http://www.janedixonsmith.co.uk/ for the stunning artwork. I am truly delighted with it.
The Legacy, is still a work in progress, but I hope to release the book in late March early April, hopefully on the Authors Reach platform.
The novel continues the story of Jessica Griffiths and her ongoing relationship and family problems.
I am delighted to announce that my new, cosy crime novel, Murder at the Mill is released today on the KDP platform. The paperback version will follow shortly and the audiobook, sometime in the New Year.
The book features a few of the characters from my last novel, Unspoken and is set in the English county of Kent in 1939. Amy, a machinist at The Mill, a clothing factory, is drawn into a murder investigation when she meets Detective Sergeant Bodkin on her way to work one morning.
I’d like to thank two wonderfully talented ladies who have helped me produce the novel.
Maureen Vincent-Northam, my fab editor and Jane Dixon-Smith my brilliantly creative cover designer. You can find her here should you need a beautifully designed cover for you own book. www.jdsmith-design.com
Cosy Crime is a new genre for me but I hope Murder at the Mill will be the first in a series of Amy Rowlings mystery books. For those waiting for a sequel to Unspoken, I hope this book will keep you going until Unspoken 2 arrives in 2021.
Murder At The Mill: An Amy Rowlings Mystery eBook: Belshaw, T. A.: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store
The Cover for my upcoming novel, Murder at the Mill is revealed today. Once again, it has been designed by the fabulous Jane Dixon Smith. http://www.jdsmith-design.com/
To say that I’m blown away by it is an understatement. Murder at the Mill is my first cosy crime novel and is a spin off book using one of the minor characters from my Family Saga, Dual Timeline, novel, Unspoken and will be published in early December in both Kindle and Paperback formats.
Blasts a fanfare,, Da da da da da da daaaaaaa
Murder at the Mill.
The back of the book, blurb.
Murder at the Mill. A Gripping New Cosy Crime Series with a light hearted touch.
January 1939 and the residents of the snow-covered streets of a small Kentish town awake to horrific news.
When young Amy Rowlings meets Detective Sergeant Bodkin at the scene of a burglary on the way to work at The Mill one snowy January morning, she is blissfully unaware of how much her life is about to change.
She is drawn into the murky world of murder when the body of Edward Handsley is found lying on the floor of the clothing factory.
Edward, the son of factory owner George is a libertine, philanderer, and a young man with a lot of enemies, many of them female.
Twenty-one-year-old Amy is a vivacious, quick-witted collector of imported American music, a movie buff and an avid reader of crime fiction. A girl who can spot whodunnit long before the film star detective gets an inkling.
Bodkin is new to the area and accepts Amy’s offer to provide local knowledge but she soon becomes an invaluable source of information.
When Adam Smethwick is arrested for the murder, Amy, a family friend, is convinced of his innocence and sets out to prove that the detective has arrested the wrong man.
Amy befriends Justine, the young French fiancé of the elderly George, and soon discovers that it was not all sweetness and light in the Handsley family home. Meanwhile, back at the factory, Amy is sure that the foreman, Mr Pilling, has something to hide.
As the investigation proceeds, Amy finds that her burgeoning relationship with Bodkin is pushed to the limits as the detective becomes even more convinced that he has arrested the right man and while Bodkin relies heavily on the facts as they are presented, Amy has a more nuanced approach to solving the crime, born out of her beloved Agatha Christie books and the crimes she has witnessed in the movies.
The Unspoken blog tour continues apace with a fantastic review from Neats, part of the Damppebbles Blog Tour.
‘If family saga’s and dual time novels are your thing, you’d be hard pushed to find a more enjoyable one than Unspoken. It’s got drama, love, intrigue, revenge and secrets – so basically everything you need for a captivating read and that’s exactly what I thought it was.’
https://thehaphazardoushippo.blogspot.com/2020/10/blog-tour-unspoken-t-belshaw.html