Category Archives: Contemporary

Top Books of 2020

Each year, I set myself a reading challenge on Goodreads. I read regularly, but even so I like to have a target to reach each year, in terms of the number of books I manage to read. In recent years my target has been 20 books, and this year I decided to increase it to 25. In fact, I ended up reading 26 books this year, and as ever these were an eclectic mix, from ghost stories to romances, and from classics to brand new releases.

As the year draws to a close, I thought I’d review my Goodreads reading challenge list and pick out my favourite reads of 2020. And so, in no particular order, here they are…

The Cold Black Sea – Campbell Hart

There’s something rotten at the heart of the Balfour family. These three stories highlight the darker side of a shared history, told through the voices of different generations.

The Sniper: as the bloodiest battle of WW1 rages all around them, three friends find themselves facing a phantom sniper deep in no-man’s land. Set against the horror of the Somme one thing is certain: you never see the shots, and the marksman never misses.

The Rocking Stone: the vengeful spirit of the Lady of Threepwood stalks Cuff Hill, bringing death to those who catch her eye. When a black metal box is unearthed in an ancient grave, a young girl’s life is transformed. Only the Rocking Stone holds the answers, with the truth found in the ancient fire cast out from the otherworld.

The Cold, Black Sea: A dying woman returns home for the final time, but with her judgement clouded by visions of the past and present, nothing is quite as it seems. As she tries to lay her demons to rest she’s dogged by a journalist determined to uncover a terrible secret.

There’s no escape from the cold, black sea.

I wrote a review of Campbell Hart’s collection of three ghost stories back in October after receiving an advanced copy, and as I noted at that time, they certainly made an impression on me. This was a perfect Halloween read: dark, foreboding and very satisfying as each story explored a different layer of one family’s accursed history.

An Unreliable Man – Jostein Gaarder

From the creative genius of Jostein Gaarder comes a beautiful novel about loneliness and the power of words.
Jakop is a lonely man.
Divorced from his wife, with no friends apart from his constant companion Pelle, he spends his life attending the funerals of people he doesn’t know, obscuring his identity in a web of improbable lies.
As his addiction to storytelling spirals out of control, he is forced to reconcile his love of language and stories with the ever more urgent need for human connection.

I’ve been a fan of Jostein Gaarder’s work for years, ever since I read Sophie’s World as a teen, and this book certainly didn’t disappoint. A touching tale about loneliness which addresses the nature of reality and the extent to which we create stories about ourselves as we navigate our relationship with the world around us.

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall – Anne Brontë

Anne Bronte’s second novel is a passionate and courageous challenge to the conventions supposedly upheld by Victorian society and reflected in circulating-library fiction. The heroine, Helen Huntingdon, after a short period of initial happiness, leaves her dissolute husband, and must earn her own living to rescue her son from his influence. The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is compelling in its imaginative power, the realism and range of its dialogue, and its psychological insight into the characters involved in a marital battle.

I read a number of classic novels this year, but this one was my favourite. In its day, this book was bold and shocking; so much so that after Anne’s death, her sister Charlotte prevented its re-publication. An epistolary novel told from the points of view of a farmer, Gilbert Markham and the mysterious Helen, whom he admires, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is a story of love and sacrifice which does not shy away from addressing the cruelty and unhappiness which no doubted existed within the bounds of many a Victorian marriage.

Five Hundred Miles from You – Jenny Colgan

They live five hundred miles apart. Yet their lives are about to collide . . .

Lissa loves her job as a nurse, but recently she’s been doing a better job of looking after other people than looking after herself. After a traumatic incident at work leaves her feeling overwhelmed, she agrees to swap lives with someone in a quite village in Scotland.

Cormac is a restless. Just out of the army, he’s desperately in need of distraction, and there’s precious little of it in Kirrinfief. Maybe three months in London is just what he needs.

As Lissa and Cormac warm to their new lives, emailing back and forth about anything and everything, finally things seem to be falling into place. But each of them feel there’s still a piece missing. What – or who – could it be?

And what if it’s currently five hundred miles away?

Towards the end of 2020, I made a conscious decision to indulge in some lighter reading. I absolutely loved this book, and couldn’t put it down. It’s a real feel-good read which has it all, including a romantic Scottish highland setting and a good bit of will-they-won’t-they. If you want a book which will make you smile, I’d recommend giving this one a try.

The Year without Summer – Guinevere Glasfurd

In 1815, a supervolcanic eruption led to the extraordinary ‘Year Without Summer’ in 1816: a massive climate disruption causing famine, poverty and riots. Lives, both ordinary and privileged, changed forever.

1815, Sumbawa Island, Indonesia
Mount Tambora explodes in a cataclysmic eruption, killing thousands. Sent to investigate, ship surgeon Henry Hogg can barely believe his eyes. Once a paradise, the island is now solid ash, the surrounding sea turned to stone. But worse is yet to come: as the ash cloud rises and covers the sun, the seasons will fail.

1816.
In Switzerland, Mary Shelley finds dark inspiration. Confined inside by the unseasonable weather, thousands of famine refugees stream past her door. In Vermont, preacher Charles Whitlock begs his followers to keep faith as drought dries their wells and their livestock starve. In Britain, the ambitious and lovesick painter John Constable struggles to reconcile the idyllic England he paints with the misery that surrounds him. In the Fens, farm labourer Sarah Hobbs has had enough of going hungry while the farmers flaunt their wealth. And Hope Peter, returned from Napoleonic war, finds his family home demolished and a fence gone up in its place. He flees to London, where he falls in with a group of revolutionaries who speak of a better life, whatever the cost. As desperation sets in, Britain becomes racked with riots – rebellion is in the air.

The Year Without Summer is the story of the books written, the art made; of the journeys taken, of the love longed for and the lives lost during that fateful year. Six separate lives, connected only by an event many thousands of miles away. Few had heard of Tambora – but none could escape its effects.

I’m a huge fan of Guinevere Glasfurd’s writing, and really enjoyed her debut novel, The Words in my Hand. Her second offering, an evocative tale of how one natural event can influence the course of many disparate lives, was just as wonderful. The way in which Glasfurd weaves her narrative is masterful, as she brings together a cast of well-drawn characters, from those on the cusp of making history, to ordinary folk just trying to survive. This writer has a real talent for bringing history to life on the page, and I look forward to seeing what she will write next.

Mistletoe Mishaps – Tracy Broemmer

If there’s anything Nic Collier likes less than decorating for Christmas, it’s being called out on local TV news to do just that. When anchorwoman Hailey Gerritsen challenges her to participate in the Christmas decorating contest sponsored by her own news station, Nic has no choice but to play along.

Enter Scott Woodrow, news cameraman, owner of a smokin’ hot body, and all-around nice guy. When Scott shows up to help Nic with her Christmas lights, she assumes none other than Hailey Gerritsen put him up to it.

But as the two of them work side-by-side to finish the decorating, Nic finds herself drawn to Scott and actually enjoying the decorating project and the holiday season.

Will Nic’s newfound holiday cheer last through the season, or will ghosts from her past ruin yet another holiday?

This novella was my festive reading choice for 2020, and it certainly did not disappoint. I’ve read quite a number of Tracy Broemmer’s books now, and she is fast becoming one of my favourite authors of contemporary romance. I really enjoyed the mistletoe premise, and the way in which a lighthearted piece of Christmas folklore propels the characters’ journey along. If you’re looking for a heartwarming love story laced with Christmas cheer, then this book is for you.

The Dead Girl’s Stilettos – Quinn Avery

After a Jane Doe is murdered in journalist Bexley Squires’s hometown, she’s hired by one of Hollywood’s brightest stars to clear his name as a suspect. But her skills as an amateur sleuth weren’t enough to find her missing sister. Does she have what it takes to find a killer?

When she returns to California, she discovers the elite seaside community of Papaya Springs has become more corrupt than she imagined. All too soon, she stumbles into a web of twisted games played by the rich and famous. Along with the detective in charge of the case, who also happens to be her high school crush, she’ll uncover a level of depravity unlike anything she’s ever known.

Murder and scandal under the hot California skies – what’s not to like? I really enjoyed this first book in Quinn Avery’s Bexley Squires series. It is a well-paced mystery with twists and turns aplenty, which I am sure fans of this genre will find satisfying. The heroine’s return to her hometown, her re-connection with her teen crush and the question of her missing sister all add further depth and interest to the story. Quinn Avery has been prolific in writing this series, a number of which are now available. They are on my to-read list for 2021.

Spotlight Part 5: The House at Kirtlebeck End

And so, readers, we have reached the final book spotlight. The House at Kirtlebeck End is my most recent novel, published in 2019.

Cover for The House at Kirtlebeck End

The House at Kirtlebeck End is a dual narrative story which moves between the 1970s and present day as a young woman, Harry, and her grandmother, Eleanor, tell their respective stories. At the centre of the tale is an old house, filled with secrets and a murky family history which begs to be uncovered. In terms of genre, the book is undoubtedly a paranormal mystery and a ghost story, and is probably the spookiest thing I have written to date!

Weaving a story across two different timelines and from two different characters’ point of view was quite a challenge. I began by writing both narratives in turn, following the structure of the book. However, about a third of the way in, I found it more productive to focus on one character’s story at a time, completing one before returning to the other. I wrote Eleanor’s story, set in 1972, first; this made most sense to me as this timeline was the pivot upon which Harry’s various discoveries hung while she tried to solve her family’s mysteries. Nonetheless it was tricky to ensure that things came together, that the pacing was correct and that the chapters fell into the right order. A large part of the editing was a painstaking process of ensuring that it made sense, and that nothing was discovered by Harry before being revealed to the reader by Eleanor.

Promotional poster

The story itself was inspired by a Christmas holiday spent in southern Scotland a few years ago. We stayed in a big old Victorian house in a tiny village in the countryside. It was a truly beautiful place, not at all forbidding like the house at Kirtlebeck End. Nonetheless, it was full of interesting features, from the sweeping wooden staircase, to the antique iron towel rail in the bathroom. It got me thinking about the things that the house would have seen over the years, and the stories it held within its walls. I found myself wondering what the house might tell me, if it could speak. The idea stayed with me, and developed eventually into this ghostly tale which takes place in an old house, sitting alone at the end of a fictional village I named Kirtlebeck. Given my love of the Gothic, it’s little wonder things ended up this way!

Spotlight Part 3: Ethersay

In today’s spotlight is my third novel, and first contemporary story, Ethersay, which was published in 2017. For me this novel marked a real shift in my creativity, as I went from re-imagining times and people long past, to crafting a story about modern characters who were entirely my own invention.

In 2016, around the time I was finishing A Woman Named Sellers, I had a really strange dream about a woman waking up on a beach with no recollection of what happened or how she got there. This, it turned out, was the seed of an idea which became Ethersay. After a lot of thought, I decided to set part of the narrative during the independence referendum here in Scotland in 2014 – a momentous, exciting time which provided my protagonist with just the right amount of upheaval and drama to propel her story along.

Of all my books, Ethersay is probably the hardest to describe or place in any sort of category. On one level it is about political activism, but that really isn’t the whole story – it’s also a mystery, with some strange twists and turns, and with plenty of suspense. If I had to describe it in one sentence, I’d say that ultimately it’s about a young woman having to face up to her past and its consequences.

Ethersay is also my only novel to have a book trailer. I worked with the very talented Stewart Kerr Brown of The Imagination Engine to create this film, which stars Jodi Findlay. We had an absolute ball filming this in Fife, Scotland.

A couple of years ago I wrote a blog post about how my experiences during the referendum inspired this novel.

You can find out more about Ethersay and where to buy it here.

Somewhere in Between

Today I’m delighted to share my short story, Somewhere in Between, which has been published in issue 1 of Gutter Voices. Gutter Voices is a brand new online literary magazine showcasing some great writing, so please do check it out here!

In Somewhere in Between an elderly woman reflects on a diminished world in this tale about love and the power of memory. I really hope you enjoy it – please feel free to leave a comment below.



New Release: The House at Kirtlebeck End

I’m really happy to announce that my new novel, The House at Kirtlebeck End, has been released!

The House at Kirtlebeck End is a paranormal suspense novel set in Scotland in the 1970s and the present day.

Let the dead speak

Two troubled women. Two different decades. Two unsolved disappearances. Will the house that witnessed it all ever give up its secrets?

In 1972 artist Eleanor Murray starts afresh in Kirtlebeck with her husband, Bert, and daughter, Anna. Still reeling from Bert’s recent infidelity, Eleanor’s hopes of happiness in their rural idyll are swiftly consumed by depression and despair. Then, just months after their arrival in the village, Bert goes missing.

In 2018 Eleanor’s estranged granddaughter, Harry James, arrives in Kirtlebeck after inheriting the Murray family home. Desperate to put her chequered past behind her, Harry is determined to learn about the family she never knew and to discover what happened to her mother, Anna, who vanished without a trace years ago.

As the story moves between the decades, secrets are unearthed and the dead begin to speak. Alone in the big old house, Harry learns that nothing is quite as it seems, and that behind a family history filled with strange disappearances lurks an otherworldly tale of darkness, obsession, and vengeance.

Available at: Amazon / iTunes / Barnes & Noble / Smashwords / Kobo

The Big Blurb Reveal!

Today I’m delighted to reveal the blurb for my forthcoming novel, The House at Kirtlebeck End:

I hope it has you intrigued! The House at Kirtlebeck End is a paranormal mystery/suspense novel, and will be available in ebook and paperback format on 2nd December 2019.

To celebrate the imminent release of my next book, my first contemporary novel Ethersay is currently 99p / 99c on Amazon Kindle. If you haven’t read Ethersay, you can check out the book’s description and promotional trailer here, and you can click here to pick up your copy.

Cover Reveal: The House at Kirtlebeck End

Today I am so pleased to reveal the cover for my forthcoming novel, The House at Kirtlebeck End.

Choosing a cover for this book wasn’t a straightforward process (it never is), with lots of deliberating and procrastinating and difficult choices between lots of wonderful designs. However, I decided that the cover for this book needed to show the reader exactly what it is – a paranormal mystery/suspense novel – and I feel this cover does that perfectly! I’d love to know what you think, so please comment below.

With just a month now to go until the release date of 2nd December, I will shortly be publishing the book’s blurb and details of the e-launch event, so keep an eye out here for updates.

Book Review: Eagle Mountain by Hillary Devisser

Marie walked out on her husband after the second slap and has been standing on her own two well-heeled feet ever since. To say she has trust issues is the tip of the proverbial iceberg. In her opinion, a steady man is a luxury, not a necessity.

Cole has a long history of impulsivity and a savior complex as big as his shoe size. A laundry list of guilt and bad decisions follow him wherever he goes. What he lacks in judgement he makes up for with heart and good intentions.

Thrown together by fate, the unlikely pair must decide whether what they have is love or just the thrill of the chase.

Eagle Mountain is the fourth book in Hillary Devisser’s Coal Country series of romance novels set in southern Illinois. Having read and enjoyed Eagle Mountain’s three predecessors, I was eagerly anticipating this latest instalment of lovely, uplifting reads. I’m pleased to say I was not disappointed.

The heroine of the story is Marie, a fiercely independent woman from St Louis who has had more than her fair share of tough times. Bitter experience has hardened her views on love, and in the wake of yet another failed romance, she decides to take a break from the city and do some much-needed healing against the backdrop of a forest retreat. There she meets Cole, whom fans of the series may remember as one of the male protagonists from the first Coal Country novel, The Fishing Hole. Like Marie, Cole comes with a whole lot of baggage, but it seems like it’s not always opposites that attract and, very quickly, sparks begin to fly. But with old habits dying hard and old flames reappearing, the path to true love is far from smooth.

As in the previous books, Devisser employs a third-person narrative, which works well for giving equal insight into both protagonists’ thoughts and experiences. Devisser has a talent for creating likable, memorable characters, with Marie and Cole being no exception. For the avid reader of this series, there is the added bonus that Devisser reintroduces characters from the previous books in a supporting cast of relatable, down-to-earth people who bring a smile to your face. Equally smile-inducing is the setting; the small town, the dense forests and the mountain roads, all beautifully described. I’ve never visited southern Illinois, but Devisser’s writing makes me feel as though I should.

Eagle Mountain is a gently-paced read, but not without its twists and turns – the ending, in particular, was quite unexpected. Like the previous Coal Country novels, however, it succeeds in being a real feel-good romance. This is the sort of book you can curl up with on a chilly autumn day, whilst wearing woolly socks and sipping a mug of hot chocolate. Five stars.

Eagle Mountain will be released on 1st October 2019. Pre-order your copy here. To find out more about Hillary Devisser’s books, visit her website or Goodreads page.

A Sense of Achievement

Hello folks, happy Thursday! It’s been quite a few weeks since I last posted on my blog, so I thought I’d write a quick post to bring you up to date with what’s been going on. In short – a lot! This time of year is always hectic, with the end of the school term approaching and the kids’ shows, presentation evenings and other events really taking over the family diary for a while. In writing terms it’s also been a busy time – after more than a year of hard work, almost 110,000 words and thirty-something chapters, The House At Kirtlebeck End is complete!

Well, the first draft is complete, and the first read-through/edit is done. Now it’s time to get it sent over to my very lovely, very capable group of draft readers and nervously await their initial feedback. Then, after that, it’s a case of more editing, more reading, more editing, and so on, until I’m happy. But, whilst the book isn’t quite a finished product yet, I’m still relishing the huge sense of achievement which comes with finally having a complete, draft manuscript.

So, what is The House at Kirtlebeck End about?

You might remember back in January I put forward this pitch on Twitter for the Xpo North contest:

Over the past few months I’ve also posted a few teaser excerpts on social media, just to give you all a flavour of what’s going on:

The House at Kirtlebeck End is essentially a mystery, packed with suspense and a more than healthy dose of the paranormal. When the time comes I plan to dedicate it to my kids, as for ages they kept asking me to write a ‘ghost story’, and finally I have. Having said that, it will be some years before I allow them to read it!

I’ve really enjoyed writing this book, and I’m looking forward to polishing it up ready for publication before sharing it with you in the coming months.

Ethersay – Chapter 1

Ethersay is still on sale for 99p/99c for Kindle until the end of May. To entice you all to take advantage of this great deal, today I thought I’d give you a preview of chapter one. In the first part of the story we meet Rebecca who, we quickly discover, has decided to run away from some pretty heavy personal and political trauma, with unforeseen consequences…

1

The day after the referendum, my life fell apart. It wasn’t obvious at first. Initially, I couldn’t see how bad I’d allowed things to become, how much of a mess I’d made of everything. No, at first I allowed the copious amounts of alcohol and cigarettes – yes, that old habit reared its ugly head from the graveyard of my youth – to numb me, to help me feel nothing, to help me forget how much it hurt. Then I saw him and all of a sudden it hit me, like the proverbial ton of bricks. It hit me so hard that it took my breath away. I knew then that I had to run.

Of course, I realise that it wasn’t really the referendum’s fault. The referendum, or the referendum on Scottish independence, to call it by its proper name, was more the catalyst, the match which lit the touch paper I call my life. And sure as fire is fire, it ignited me, filled me with a passion I had never felt before. It was a wonderful, addictive thing, to feel so enlivened, so empowered. For months I lived on the cusp of destiny; I lapped it up, unable to satiate my thirst. If only I’d let the passion remain political, then perhaps I wouldn’t be in the mess I’m in now.

“The Prime Minister assures Tory MPs that he will cut public spending in Scotland,” a monotone voice bleats forth from the radio. It is the sort of voice I’d noticed more and more over these past few months; that insidious media voice, the one with the gift for expressing opinion as fact, half-truth as perceived knowledge.

I turn it off, swiping the button angrily with my finger. I am in no mood to listen to that right now.

The tears well up in my eyes once again as I ruminate on the events of the past few hours. How could I have been so foolish? How could I not see what was right in front of me? I brush the tears away but they continue to form, blurring my view of the road ahead. I realise that I have no idea where I am. I glance at the clock on the dashboard. It is past midnight, the sky outside the colour of pitch tar. I sigh, realising autumn is here. Mere weeks ago I could still see that majestic band of blue lingering on the northern horizon. That is one thing I love about Scottish summertime; the long days, and the way that when night finally falls, the darkness is always delectably incomplete. It reminds me of how far north Scotland is. For some reason, I like the idea of being north.

I wonder how far north I would have to drive to see those tantalising blue hues, deeper than azure, brighter than navy. I feel as though they’re calling to me as I continue to drive, pushing my foot down harder and harder on the accelerator. I remember again that I don’t know where I am, or how long I have been driving. I light a cigarette, inhaling deeply as I realise that I don’t care. I don’t care about anything anymore. I don’t care where I’m headed, or what’s behind me.

Reaching down, I put on some music. Screw the radio and its triumphalist propaganda, its pro-establishment bile echoing across the airwaves, laughing at our defeat, stamping on our hopes for change, our aspirations for progress. Since we lost, the news had felt like one big ‘ha ha, we gotcha!’ and I hadn’t the stomach for it anymore. I need to block it out. I need to get away from it. I need to get away from everything.

In my more lucid moments, I had searched the internet for ways to emigrate. I’d learnt all about Australia and Canada and what I’d need to do to go there. I’d daydreamed about jumping on a plane, or indeed a boat, just like many of my Scottish ancestors had undoubtedly done, braving the rough seas in the hope of finding a new life, a better life. Unlike my ancestors, however, I know that there is no promised land, no greener grass on the other side of a vast ocean. The modern world is small, and known, and infinitely disappointing. In the end, I’d shut the lid of my laptop, listening to its short, sharp click as it dawned on me that I might not have the desire to stay, but neither did I have the will to leave.

Yet leaving was exactly what I’d done. I’d jumped in my car and run away, maybe not as far away as Australia, but far enough to put a safe distance between myself and my life and all the people I love.

“I mean loved,” I say aloud. The past tense is definitely more appropriate for some of them now.

I groan as the heavy drumbeat of Muse’s Uprising begins to play. I used to love that song; now I can’t bear to hear it. I recall how he had told me that it was his favourite song. I remember how he took me back to his flat, how we put on some music and drank wine and danced. In my mind’s eye, I see him grow animated as this song begins to play, his singing touchingly out of tune as he bellows the lyrics, air guitar firmly in hand. Decisively, I press the skip button. I can’t stand to be reminded of him right now.

“London Grammar. That’s better,” I say, finding immediate respite in a more peaceful melody. Respite, but not solace. More tears fall. Why can I not stop crying? The road in front becomes a blur once again as I stub out my cigarette. It’s a terrible habit; I shouldn’t have started smoking again. Another bad choice, but it’s the least of my worries now.

I feel my eyelids begin to grow heavy. It’s late; I should find somewhere to pull over and rest. I squint as I look through my windscreen, hoping to find somewhere sensible to stop. The road ahead is winding and narrow, its surface uneven under the wheels of my little car. A country road. Great; I am in the middle of nowhere. In an effort to keep myself from falling asleep, I wind my window down, allowing the cool night air to refresh me. I breathe in deeply, thinking that I can smell the sea; its delicious fragrance fills my car, the scent of salt and seaweed surrounds me.

Metallica’s The Unforgiven. The song is painfully appropriate. I hit the skip button again, my hands shaking as I start to feel chilled by the night air. I begin to long for my warm bed, the comforting familiarity of my soft sheets inviting me into peaceful slumber.

“Rebecca, stop it,” I chastise myself. “You can’t go home. There’s nothing left for you there now.”

Talking to myself. Isn’t that the first sign of madness? I laugh bitterly, sorrowfully. I am right, though. I can’t go home. It isn’t my home anymore. The gentle rustling sound made by the full bin bags flung carelessly on the back seat is a testament to that.

My car’s engine rumbles, a low, incessant hum, like bees busy at work in a swarming hive. I fling the car faster and faster along the undulating road. Live dangerously, die smiling – someone said that to me once. I feel my face crumple once again. I don’t think I want to die. I’m just not sure I want to live, either.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see something run into the path of my speeding car. A deer? A grouse? A person? My heart pounds hard in my chest as I slam my foot on the brake. I can’t kill something, or someone, today. This cannot be how today ends. Today has been horrible enough, without this. I swerve, desperately trying to avoid whichever poor creature has found itself in front of me. There is a terrible thud, followed by a pained squeal. Beneath my hands, I feel my steering wheel become heavy, useless. My tyres screech, twisted and aimless as my car leaves the road. I close my eyes as I feel myself turning, spinning. It is a bizarre sensation, momentary weightlessness followed by crushing pain as my body is shoved against the hard surface of my car. I try to scream but no sound comes out of my mouth. I lick my lips, the metallic flavour of blood overpowering me.

Foolishly, I struggle, trying to free myself. I hit my head against the roof of the car as it crushes down above me – or below me, for in the dark I cannot tell which way round I am. I am dizzy now, the warming sensation of blood as it trickles down my face making me feel simultaneously panicked and drowsy. I begin to slip away, my injured head lulling me to sleep with fantasies of climbing between those warm, soft sheets back home.

My last thought is that he is there beside me, his arms around me as he whispers sweet sentiments in my ear. I see his face, I hear his voice; I feel the rough bristles of his beard against my skin. Then he is gone, and everything fades to black.


Ethersay is available from Amazon now.