#coverreveal! Secrets We Keep by Faith Hogan (@GerHogan) @Aria_Fiction

Two cover reveals in two days, how exciting!! Now, I am sure a lot of you have heard of this author and/or read her first novel; if you haven’t, you can find my review of her debut novel here: #Review! My Husband’s Wives by Faith Hogan (@GerHogan) @Aria_Fiction #AriaAddict.

Today I get to help reveal the cover of her next novel, Secrets We Keep, and it is a stunner!! Ready??

aria_hogan_secrets-we-keep_e

Blurb
Two distant relatives, drawn together in companionship are forced to confront their pasts and learn that some people are good at keeping secrets and some secrets are never meant to be kept. A bittersweet story of love, loss and life. Perfect for the fans of Patricia Scanlan and Adele Parks.
The beautiful old Bath House in Ballytokeep has lain empty and abandoned for decades. For devoted pensioners Archie and Iris, it holds too many conflicting memories of their adolescent dalliances and tragic consequences – sometimes it’s better to leave the past where it belongs.
For highflying, top London divorce lawyer Kate Hunt, it’s a fresh start – maybe even her future. On a winter visit to see her estranged Aunt Iris she falls in love with the Bath House. Inspired, she moves to Ballytokeep leaving her past heartache 600 miles away – but can you ever escape your past or your destiny?

Cannot wait to read this, sounds and looks incredible! The Amazon link is below if you fancy pre-ordering it!!

Links to buy:

Amazon:
Kobo
iBooks
Google Play

About the author

Faith lives in the west of Ireland with her husband, four children and two very fussy cats. She has an Hons Degree in English Literature and Psychology, has worked as a fashion model and in the intellectual disability and mental health sector.

Follow Faith Hogan

Facebook: @FaithHoganAuthor
Twitter: @GerHogan
Instagram: @FaithHoganAuthor
Website: http://www.faithhogan.com

‘Melody Bittersweet and the Girls Ghostbusting Agency’ opens its doors….TOMORROW!!!

-jumps up and down like an excited child’ TOMORROW, TOMORROW, did you know that….TOMORROW Kitty French’s latest novel ‘Melody Bittersweet and the Girls Ghostbusting Agency’ is published! I am sure many of you know how excited I am about this book because it is pure brilliance! A brilliant book.

Today I have something rather special on the blog to help get you all excited about the books release too. I have an extract from Kitty’s book to share with you, I know you will enjoy it! Because of that fact, the buy link will be at the end, I am THAT sure you will LOVE IT! Enjoy!!

Melody Bittersweet and The Girls’ Ghostbusting Agency

Chapter One

‘So, what do you do with your spare time, Melody?’

I look my date square in his pretty brown eyes and lie to him. ‘Oh, you know. The usual.’ I shrug to convey how incredibly normal I am. ‘I read a lot . . . Go to the movies. That kind of thing.’

I watch Lenny digest my words, and breathe a sigh of relief when his eyes brighten.

‘Which genre?’

‘Movies or books?’ I ask, stalling for time because, in truth, I don’t get much in the way of spare time to do either.

‘Movies. Action or romance? No, let me guess.’ He narrows his eyes and studies me intently. ‘You look like a sucker for a rom-com.’

‘Do I?’ I’m genuinely surprised. I’m five foot three and look more like Wednesday Addams than a Disney princess. Maybe Wednesday Addams is over-egging it, but you get the idea; I’m brunette and my dress sense errs on the side of edgy. I don’t think anyone has ever looked at me and thought whimsy. Maybe Lenny sees something everyone else has missed, me included. I quite like that idea, mainly because everyone who knows my family has a head full of preconceptions about me, based on the fact that my family are all crackers.

‘Four Weddings?’ He shrugs hopefully.

I nod, not mentioning that the only part of that particular movie I enjoyed was the funeral.

‘The Holiday?’

Again, I try to look interested and hold my tongue, because I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear that I’d rather stick needles in my eyes than ever watch an over-optimistic Kate Winslet drag some old guy around a swimming pool again.

I’m relieved when the bill arrives and we can get out of there, because so far Lenny has turned out to be a pretty stellar guy and somehow I’ve managed to

convince him that I walk on the right side of the tracks. Maybe this time, things will be different.

Lenny pulls his dull, salesman’s saloon into the cobbled cartway beside my building and kills the engine. I don’t mind dull. In fact, my life could really use a bit of dull right now, so I shoot him my most seductive smile, cross my fingers that my mother will be in bed, and invite him in for coffee.

Oh, just when it had all been going so well. Why couldn’t I have just given him a goodnight kiss, with maybe the smallest hint of tongue as a promise, then sent him on his way? He’d have called for a second date, I’m sure of it.

But no. I got greedy, pulled him by the hand through the dark back door, placing my finger against my lips to signal he should be quiet as we tip-toed past my mother’s apartment and up the old wooden staircase to my place.

He rests his hand on my waist as I turn the key, and a small thrill shoots down my back. Look at me, winning at this being-an-adult thing today! Dinner with an attractive man, sparkling conversation, and now back to mine for coffee . . . and maybe even a little fooling around. It’s not that I’m a virgin or anything, but it would be fair to call my love life patchy of late. By ‘of late’ I mean the last two years, ever since Leo Dark and I called things off. Well, by Leo and I, I mean Leo called things off, citing conflict of interests. Ha. Given that he was referring to the fact that my mad-as-a-bag-of-cats family are the only other psychics in town besides him, he was, at least in part, right.

But enough of Leo and my lamentable love life. Right now, all I want is for Lenny not to know anything at all about my peculiar family, to keep seeing me as a cool, regular, completely normal girl, and then to kiss me.

‘You remind me of Clara Oswald,’ Lenny whispers behind me at the top of the stairs. ‘All big brown eyes and clever one-liners. It’s very sexy.’

Lord, I think he’s just brushed a kiss against the back of my neck! My door sticks sometimes so I shoulder it open, aiming for firm and graceful but, I fear, ending up looking more like a burly police SWAT guy ramming it down. Thankfully, Lenny seems to take it in his stride and follows me into my apartment. Then I flick on the table lamp only to discover that my mother is standing on my coffee table in a too-short, too-sheer, baby-blue negligee with her arms raised towards the ceiling and her head thrown back.

‘Shit!’ Lenny swears down my ear, clearly startled. He isn’t to blame. My mother’s a striking woman, ballerina-tall and slender with silver hair that falls in waves well beyond her shoulder blades. It isn’t grey. It’s been pure silver since the day she was born, and right now she looks as if she’s just been freshly crucified on my coffee table.

I sigh as I drop my bag down by the lamp. So much for me being normal.

‘Err, mother?’

Slowly, she takes several heaving breaths and opens her eyes, changing from crazy lady to almost normal human lady. She stares at us.

‘For God’s sake, Melody,’ she grumbles, taking her hands from above her head and planting them on her hips. ‘I almost had the connection then. He’s hiding out in the loft, I’m sure of it.’

I risk a glance over my shoulder at Lenny, who sure isn’t kissing my neck anymore.

He lifts his eyebrows at me, a silent ‘what the hell?’ and then looks away when my mother beckons to him like a siren luring a fisherman onto the rocks.

‘Your hand, please, young man.’

‘No!’ I almost yell, but Lenny is already across the room with his hand out to help her down. My mother eyes me slyly as she steps from the table, keeping a firm hold of Lenny’s hand.

‘Long lifeline,’ she murmurs, tracing her red talon across Lenny’s palm.

‘Mother,’ I warn, but my somber, cautionary tone falls on her selectively deaf ears. I expected nothing else, because she’s pulled this trick before. Admittedly, the standing-on-the-table thing is a new twist, but she’s got form in scoping out my prospective boyfriends to make sure they’ll fit in with our screwball family from the outset. Not that her romantic gauge is something to put any stock in; Leo passed her tests with flying colours and look how that ended up. I got my heart broken and he got a spot on morning TV as the resident psychic. Where’s the justice in that?

Look, we may as well get the clanky old skeleton out of the family closet early on here, people. It’s going to come out sooner or later, and despite my attempts to pull the wool over Lenny’s eyes, there’s never any running away from this thing for long.

My name’s Melody Bittersweet, and I see dead people.

It’s not only me. I’m just the latest in a long line of Bittersweets to have the gift, or the curse, depending on how you look at it. My family has long since celebrated our weirdness; hence the well-established presence of our family business, Blithe Spirits, on Chapelwick High Street. We’ve likely been here longer than the actual chapel at the far end of the street. That’s probably why, by and large, we’re accepted by the residents of the town, in a ‘they’re a bunch of eccentrics, but they’re our bunch of eccentrics,’ kind of way. What began as a tiny, mullion-windowed, one-room shop has spread out along the entire row over the last two hundred years; we now own a run of three terraced properties haphazardly knocked into one, big, rambling place that is both business and home to not only me, but also to my mother, Silvana, and her mother, Dicey. Gran’s name isn’t actually Dicey, it’s Paradise, officially, but she’s gone by Dicey ever since she met my Grandpa Duke on her fifteenth birthday and he wrote Dicey and Duke inside a chalk heart on the back wall of the building. He may as well have written it on her own racing heart.

‘Silvana!’

Speak of the devil. Does no one go to bed around here?

I open my door to find Gran on the threshold with her hand raised, poised to knock. I guess I should be glad she’s slightly more respectably dressed, if a floor-length, purple shot-silk kimono, bearing huge technicolor dragons could be considered as such. Her usually pin-curled gold hair is piled elegantly on her head and she wears a slash of fire-engine-scarlet lipstick for good measure. Most people couldn’t carry the look off, but thanks to her poise, confidence and couldn’t-care-less attitude, Grandma Dicey wears it with artful success. She glides past me without invitation and gazes at my mother and Lenny, who are still hand-in-hand on the rug.

God.

First thing tomorrow morning, I swear, I’m going to look for a new place to live, somewhere, anywhere, that is not in the same building as my mother and my gran. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a charming old place and I love my family dearly. It’s not even as if I don’t have my own space here, because, theoretically at least, I do. Mum and Gran have the ground floor apartment behind Blithe Spirits, and I have the smaller flat upstairs, at the back. In lots of ways this makes me fortunate; I get to have a nice little home of my own and stay close to my family. It would all be fine and dandy, were it not for the fact that my family are officially bonkers and liable to come

up and let themselves into my flat – using the spare key I gave them for dire emergencies only – and embarrass the shit out if me.

‘Why is Silvana entertaining a man half her age in your flat?’ Gran looks from me to my mother. ‘You should have said you were expecting company, darling. I’d have gone out.’ She touches her hand lightly against her hair. ‘Put a towel on the doorknob or something, isn’t that the modern way to signal these things? Don’t come a knockin’ if the caravan’s rockin’?’

She looks spectacularly pleased with herself, and one glance at Lenny tells me that he knows he’s way out of his depth with these two and is in the process of writing me off as the worst date he’s ever had. His eyes slide from me to the door, and I can almost hear him begging me to let him go unharmed.

‘He’s not mum’s date, he’s mine. Or else, he was,’ I mutter, and then I’m distracted as a beer-bellied pensioner in a soup-stained shirt slowly materialises through the ceiling, his flannel trousers not quite meeting his bony ankles. Stay with me; I see dead people, remember? As do my mother and my grandmother, who also watch him descend with matching expressions of distaste.

‘Finally,’ my mother spits, dropping Lenny’s hand so she can round on the new arrival. ‘Two hours I’ve been chasing you around this bloody building. Your wife wants to know what you’ve done with the housekeeping she’d hidden in the green teapot. She says you better not have lost it on the horses or she’s had it with you.’

Grandma Dicey rolls her eyes. ‘I rather think she’s had it with him anyway. He’s been dead for six weeks.’

‘You’re a fine one to talk, given that you still sleep with your husband twenty years after he died.’ Mother flicks her silver hair sharply. Touché.

Lenny whimpers and bolts for my front door, turning back to me just long enough to splutter ‘something’s come up, gotta go,’ before he hoofs it out and down the stairs two at a time.

I listen to the outside door bang on its hinges and wonder what came up. Probably his dinner.

Huge thank you to Kim at Bookouture and Kitty for allowing the extract to be used! 
To buy the book, click HERE

TWG is thrilled (& starstruck) to have author Cathy Bramley in the spotlight!

Bear with me a moment while I compose myself -breathes-. Not long ago, I thought I would chance my luck and tweet Cathy to see if she was available for an interview. I nearly fell off my chair when she replied saying yes! Just like a huge percentage of the population, I am a huge fan of Cathy’s, so to interview her and talk about books that I read well before I began blogging, is a dream come true. -fangirl moment-. It is with such great pleasure that I welcome THE Cathy Bramley to The Writing Garnet!

cathy1

TWG: For those that may not be aware, could you tell us a little about yourself?

I am the author of the best-selling romantic comedies Ivy Lane, Appleby Farm, Wickham Hall, Conditional Love and The Plumberry School of Comfort Food. I live in a Nottinghamshire village with my husband, two daughters and a dog.

TWG: Have you always wanted to be a writer?

Not at all! I’ve always been an avid reader, but it didn’t cross my mind to write until a few years ago.

TWG: Have there been any books which have made you wish you wrote them? If so, which ones and why?

Pride and Prejudice. It’s such a captivating love story and the royalties would come in handy.

TWG: How easy was it to get the inspiration for all of your books?

It varies book to book. The idea for some novels come to me fully formed, others take lots of work.

TWG: Did you find yourself struggling to write any of the books?

My first, Conditional Love took me the longest because I was learning on the job (I’m still learning). I struggle to write all of them really; it’s the hardest job I’ve ever done.

TWG: Do you have a favourite out of the books you have written so far?

I feel very close to my characters as I’m writing a book, so all new books feel like my favourite. But I do have a soft spot for Ivy Lane.

TWG: You write what I call ‘cosy books’. Books that you can curl up reading with a cuppa, was that what you set out to do?

Thank you! That’s a lovely way to describe my books and it is exactly what I set out to do.

TWG: Have you disliked any of the characters in your stories?

I try to give my ‘baddies’ redeeming features because I like to think that there is good in everyone. However there was a character in Conditional Love who I was glad to see the back of!

TWG: Have there been any books that you can quite happily read multiple times? If so, what ones?

My TBR pile is too big to allow me that luxury, but the Big Stone Gap series by Adriana Trigiani would fit into that category.

TWG: Lastly, if you could give advice to writers just starting out, what would it be?

Enjoy the luxury of writing what you want to write, experiment, try different voices and genres until something really clicks. And if you are hoping to be published, don’t labour over every sentence; get the voice right and get to the end!

Thank you again Cathy! Cathy’s latest novel ‘The Plumberry School of Comfort Food’ was released in paperback on the 30th June.
Love the cover!

Cathy

‘Verity Bloom hasn’t been interested in cooking anything more complicated than the perfect fish finger sandwich, ever since she lost her best friend and baking companion two years ago.

But an opportunity to help a friend lands her right back in the heart of the kitchen. The Plumberry School of Comfort Food is due to open in a few weeks’ time and needs the kind of great ideas that only Verity could cook up. And with new friendships bubbling and a sprinkling of romance in the mix, Verity finally begins to feel like she’s home.

But when tragedy strikes at the very heart of the cookery school, can Verity find the magic ingredient for Plumberry while still writing her own recipe for happiness?’

Plumberry School is available to buy right now from Amazon UK.
Not only that, it is also available to buy from Tesco, Asda (chosen as their charity book with 30p of every copy going to Breast Cancer charity), and Sainsburys (currently Sainsbury’s ‘Book of the Week’)!
To keep up to date with the latest news from Cathy herself, you can do so via Facebook and Twitter.

Thank you so much to Cathy Bramley for being in TWG’s spotlight!

The spotlight is on Eve Devon and her ‘Heart of Steel’!

TWG would like to warmly welcome Eve Devon to the blog today! If you’re wondering why there are no lights anywhere else, it’s because all lights are on Eve. It’s spotlight time!
Did you know that Eve has a new book out today? As in, right now. 14th June 2016…catch my drift? ‘Heart of Steel’ is book number two in the Steel Hawk series and Eve has kindly given an excerpt to share with you all! Of course buying links will follow, I mean, you’ll need to buy it after you have read this! It is from the author that brought you ‘It’s in his Kiss’ after all!

hos
Spotlight/Excerpt 2: Heart of Steel

Blurb: Heart of Steel, Steel Hawk, Book 2

Colleague, friend, lover…beautiful liar?

Adam Steel is in crisis mode. A recent exposé claims a founder of Steel Hawk was actually The Raven, an infamous jewel thief. Amid the ensuing damage control, all eyes are on his ability to develop a prototype to secure and protect the royal Pasha Star diamond.

He’s further blindsided when he learns his assistant, Honeysuckle Hawk, has a sordid past he never knew about. Proving he never really knew her, never should have trusted her, and definitely shouldn’t start falling for her.

With her dirty laundry flapping in the media storm, Honeysuckle’s first instinct is to run. Two things make her stay: Adam’s insistence it’s better to show the world a united front, and her heart’s insistence by his side is where she belongs.

High stakes and long hours ignite passion…until the diamond is stolen and Adam’s own prototype shows Honeysuckle is a thief. Dare he trust her to help him expose the real criminal—before the mastermind wreaks havoc on the royal family?

Warning:

Contains an über-hot, alpha-geek who’s good with his hands, a sassy reformed-rebel determined to prove she’s not a flake, romantic castles, gorgeous jewels, sleek and sexy technology, heart-pounding suspense…oh, and nipple tassels!

Excerpt:

The sensor at the archway leading to his study went off, and Adam leaped out of bed, strode across his bedroom, and yanked open his door.

Funny how in a house with three levels and seventeen different rooms, she’d zeroed in on the one room he never gave anyone access to.

Instantly, all he could think was that tonight might have been a ruse to get him to lower his defences and invite her to stay. What, did she think she could snoop to her little heart’s content and he wouldn’t notice? Wouldn’t care?

Sounded logical.

Mostly because it felt achingly familiar.

Descending the stairs at a jog, he shot across the entry hall and into the west wing of his house. As he ate up the space, his one clear thought was that no one got to abuse his hospitality and invade his privacy.

No one got to betray his trust. Especially not a beautiful woman. One who, he now reminded himself, hadn’t exactly been stellar in the truth-telling department.

With his mind on the designs laid out on his study desk, his hand slammed over the bank of switches inside the archway leading to his private study.

The corridor flooded with light, and Honeysuckle let out a shriek of surprise.

Leaning against the brick-edged arch, he ground out, “Looking for something?”

Buy Links:

AMAZON      BARNES&NOBLE   GOOGLEPLAY        KOBO          iTUNES

SAMHAINPUBLISHING

Bio:

 eve

Eve Devon writes sexy heroes, sassy heroines, and happily ever afters…

Growing up in locations like Botswana and Venezuela gave Eve a taste for adventure and her love for romances began when her mother shoved one into her hands in a desperate attempt to keep her quiet during TV coverage of the Wimbledon tennis finals!

When she wasn’t consuming books by the bucket-load, she could be found pretending to be a damsel in distress or running around solving mysteries and writing down her adventures. As a teenager, Eve rewrote countless episodes of TV detective dramas so that the hero and heroine would end up together every week. As an adult, still hooked on romance and mysteries, she worked in a library to conveniently continue reading books by the bucket-load, until realising she herself was destined to write contemporary romance and romantic suspense.

She lives in leafy Surrey in the UK, a book-devouring, slightly melodramatic, romance-writing sassy heroine with her very own sexy-hero husband. 

Where you can find her:

 

WEBSITE                   TWITTER                   FACEBOOK              GOODREADS