The Widow of Pale Harbour by Hester Fox

It’s my stop on the #blogtour for The Widow of Pale Harbour by Hester Fox today, and I am thrilled to be sharing an extract with you!




A town gripped by fear. A woman accused of murder. Who can save Pale Harbour from itself?

1846. Desperate to escape the ghosts of his past, Gabriel Stone takes a position as a minister in the remote Pale Harbour, but not all is as it seems in the sleepy town.

As soon as Gabriel steps foot in town, he can’t escape the rumours about the mysterious Sophy Carver, a young widow who lives in the eerie Castle Carver: whispers that she killed her husband, mutterings that she might even be a witch.

But as strange, unsettling events escalate into murder, Gabriel finds himself falling under Sophy’s spell. As clues start to point to Sophy as the next victim, Gabriel realises he must find answers before anyone else turns up dead.



This was the fourth dead raven to appear on Sophronia Carver’s front path in as many weeks, and there was no explaining it away as coincidence this time.
Except that this one wasn’t dead, not quite.
Sophronia had never killed a living creature before, but as she stared down at the raven and its crooked, twitching wings on her front path, she got the queasy feeling that the most hu- mane course of action might be to snap the poor thing’s neck.  

Tugging her shawl tighter against the chill, salty air, she crouched down to peer at the bird. Its feathers were blue and black—darker even than her own inky hair—and as irides- cent as the ocean on a moonless night. The bird stared back at her, unmoving except for the slow blink of its glassy eye. She wanted very much to reach out a finger and stroke its slick feathers, but that somehow felt like a breach of confidence, like telling a secret that did not belong to her.

“Helen?” she called, without tearing her gaze away from the bird.

“Helen, come quickly.”

Slowly rising to her feet, she gazed about the estate grounds and craned her neck to squint at the roof of the great old house, silhouetted against the heavy clouds. Perhaps the bird had fallen from the eaves. Or perhaps Duchess had felled it, though the old cat could barely bring down a mouse. That at least would explain how it had come to be lain so carefully across the center of the front path, as if it were some sort of pagan offering.

When Sophronia had come across the first dead raven, she had assumed it had been the victim of some sort of sickness, or perhaps weakened by storm winds. The next two she had likewise justified, but with a growing sense of uneasiness.

A prickle of cold blossomed down her spine as she realized that she could no longer dismiss the dead and injured birds. Someone—or something—was leaving them for her to find.

She stiffened, with a darting glance about her, as if someone might be lurking just beyond the broad lawn or out past the gate, watching her. But there was no one—the only movement the breeze through the flaming autumn trees, the only sound the faraway cry of a gull.

The path was supposed to be Safe. The entire grounds of the estate were supposed to be Safe. It was only out past the wrought-iron gate and into the town beyond that chaos and uncertainty reigned. Better to stay inside the grounds, where she had control. Sophronia had long ago learned to push all the bad memories and specters out of the house and into the world beyond, firmly shutting her heart and mind against them. So to see a creature in distress, so close to death—well, that was not Safe.

“Helen?” Sophronia called, louder this time, her voice car- rying up the path to where the front door stood open. A mo- ment later, a pale woman of about forty, her dark hair pulled severely back from her face, appeared in the doorway. She frowned at the sight of her mistress standing over the bird.

“Duchess must have caught it,” Sophronia said with a shake of her head as the woman stepped briskly over to where she was standing.

Helen gave her a skeptical look, and then leaned down to examine the bird for herself. “Duchess couldn’t catch her own tail,” she said, scorn edging her husky voice. “It’s the town brats making trouble again, I’d wager.”

Sophronia pressed her lips together tightly. They’d certainly had their share of children from the town coming up to the house, peeking through the windows and knocking at the door, all so that they could earn the distinction among their friends for glimpsing the infamous widow.

Suddenly, it was too unbearable to look at the exposed and broken bird a moment longer. Sophronia might have called for Garrett, the groundskeeper, but he was out on the far end of the property, cutting back the grass. Helen was capable and strong, though, and had a way with animals. “You’ll try to save it, won’t you? And if you can’t, you’ll make it…” Her words trailed off, but her meaning was unmistakable. Quick.

Carefully, Helen positioned her hands under the motionless bird, holding it slightly away from her as she lifted it. She ran a practiced hand along its wings, her dark brows furrowing in a mixture of concern and anger, as if the cruelty of human- kind never ceased to surprise her. “Wings are both broken. And there’s something wrong with its foot.” But then she caught Sophronia’s anxious look and softened. “I’ll see what I can do, Sophy.”

Sophronia gave her a warm smile and watched Helen whisk the raven off to the carriage house, her movements brisk and efficient, her posture as neat as a pin. She had taken Helen on as a servant and companion during her early days as a lonely young bride, but over the years, the older woman had proved herself to be a true friend in every sense. Now it was just the two of them against the world, as Helen was so often wont to remind her.

The first raindrops were starting to fall when Sophronia fi- nally allowed herself to stop thinking of the crooked bird and what it might mean and return indoors. Before the thump of the raven landing on the path had startled her from her rev- erie, Sophronia had been watching the storm roll in upstairs. Her late husband had always pompously referred to the large room lined with bay windows as the “upper piazza,” taking the big old house’s name, Castle Carver, to heart. Sophronia liked to watch storms approach from there; it was a sort of en- tertainment, drawing back the curtains like those in a theater, the harbor and endless gray sky a stage on which the rowdy gulls acted their plays.

She wandered through the house, unsettled. There were submissions to her late husband’s magazine piling up, submis- sions for which she was now responsible. Usually she enjoyed curling up in the parlor, tucked under a warm quilt with a cup of tea as she read through the stories and essays, curat- ing which ones she would send along to the board for publi- cation. But the raven had rattled her, and Sophronia was too anxious to read.

Instead, she continued back upstairs and threw the win- dows open. The rain was picking up now, the clouds building into something even heavier and more expectant. There was no moment so promising, so exciting, as the moment be- fore a storm broke. Living on the Maine harbor, with naught but a finger of land to separate her home from the gray At- lantic, she had the opportunity to witness many storms, all from the safety of her window. On clear days, she could see the old lighthouse jutting out on the rocky promontory outside of town, winking back at her from its empty windows, an ally in her solitude. In the other direction lay a lonesome expanse of trees, dark and wild. It was a deceptively beautiful landscape, the sheer scale of woods and ocean promising end- less possibilities, but in reality, it only swallowed up the hopes and dreams of young brides. At least on stormy days, the mist softened the harsh realities of the world, cloaked its darkness.

But today’s storm was different; she could feel it reverberating in her bones. Perhaps the raven had been a harbinger of things to come, an omen. Or perhaps it was just as Helen said—children from the town playing their cruel tricks on her, just like they had for years since her husband had died so violently and suddenly.

Sophronia sighed, drumming her fingers against the windowsill. God, she was so weary of it all. Weary of the solitude, weary of the little town, its people and their narrow minds, weary of the shell she had become. Tonight, she and Helen would eat a small supper in silence—they had few words left to say that weren’t old and stale, used up over the years—and then they would sit in the parlor, play a game of cards, and perhaps Sophronia would read a book or philosophical pamphlet while Helen plucked away at the old pianoforte. Tomor- row the laundry girl, Fanny, would come, and hopefully bring some gossip or news with her. They would chat for a little, and then Fanny would leave, and stillness would settle back over the house. It would be the same as every other day, but monotony was the price of safety. If the grand old house was indeed a castle, then Sophronia was its ghost, forever trapped, restless and roaming the halls.

She leaned out to close the window, but paused, letting the wind sweep up around her in an invigorating embrace. The building energy of the storm electrified her bones and caused tears to prick her eyes. Yes, there was something different about this storm. Change was sweeping toward Pale Harbor, and God knew, she needed it.

Sounds like a whole lot of gothic goodness to me!  The Widow of Pale Harbour is out now in paperback and ebook format and you can buy it here

My thanks go to Jessica Lee and HQ Stories for the invitation to the tour and my gorgeous finished copy.  If you enjoyed my post, please do check out my others and also the other stops on the #blogtour (see below).

Until next time!






The Glittering Hour by Iona Grey

Welcome to my stop on the #blogtour for The Glittering Hour by Iona Grey.  This fabulous book has been on my radar for an age and I am delighted to have had the opportunity to read and review it.



1925. The war is over and a new generation is coming of age, keen to put the trauma of the previous one behind them.

Selina Lennox is a Bright Young Thing whose life is dedicated to the pursuit of pleasure; to parties and drinking and staying just the right side of scandal. Lawrence Weston is a struggling artist, desperate to escape the poverty of his upbringing and make something of himself.  When their worlds collide one summer night, neither can resist the thrill of the forbidden, the lure of a love affair that they know cannot possibly last.

But there is a dark side to pleasure and a price to be paid for breaking the rules.  By the end of that summer everything has changed.

A decade later, nine year old Alice is staying at Blackwood Hall with her distant grandparents, piecing together clues from her mother’s letters to discover the secrets of the past, the truth about the present, and hope for the future.

My Thoughts

First of all can we just take a moment to appreciate this stunning front cover!  I’d be lying if I said the eye-catching artwork adorning the sleeve wasn’t one of the reasons I was initially drawn to this book!  It is simply gorgeous!

I was truly lost for words when I finished it because his book is quite simply: magnificent.  I became very quickly immersed in this shimmering show of a story, with it’s beautifully written, deep, meaningful and elegantly flowing prose.  I was dazzled by Grey’s spectacular story telling and floored by how magical this book is.

It was hard not to be spellbound by the sparkling Selina (the main protagonist) and I was taken by both her and her heart-achingly beautiful story.  Her surrounding cast were equally as vivid and all were lustrously illuminated by Grey’s sumptuous style of writing.

The Glittering Hour is one of those rare books that left me feeling utterly bereft when it ended.  It is one to be savoured and indulged in and I didn’t want to end.  It is an epic tale, and the pages ooze pure, unadulterated joy.

Delicious, dazzling and truly spectacular; this book is everything and everyone should read it.

The Glittering Hour is out now in paperback and you can buy it here

My thanks go to Anne Cater of Random Things Tours for my invitation to the #blogtour and also to Rebecca McCarthy of Simon & Schuster for my beautiful hardcover in exchange for my honest review.  If you enjoyed my post, please do check out my others, and also the other stops on the #blogtour (see below).

Until next time!








The Slaughter Man by Cassandra Parkin

Welcome to my slightly delayed stop on the #blogtour for The Slaughter Man by Cassandra Parkin!  I always try to add creepy reads to my October TBR pile so was delighted when the opportunity to read and review this came up.



When her identical twin Laurel dies, seventeen-year-old Willow’s life falls apart. With her parents marriage faltering, she finds escape at her uncle Joe’s cottage. But even as they begin to know each other, Willow is plagued with memories of her sister. Then, Lucas arrives in her life troubled, angry and with a dangerous past.

Joe’s cottage is idyllic, but the forest is filled with secrets. What is Joe hiding from her? What events have brought Lucas to her door? And who is the Slaughter Man who steals through Willow’s sleep?

As the lines between dreams and reality become blurred, Willow s torment deepens. It seems as if her only escape lies with the Slaughter Man.

My Thoughts

Cassandra Parkin is a new author (to me) and I was intrigued by the premise of this book as soon as I read the blurb.  There is no doubt that this book is beautifully written, yet it wasn’t quite the creepy read I was expecting; there is an underlying sadness and morose mood throughout.

The book is peppered with dream sequences which I found both fascinating and disturbing; quite a novel way to tell a story, making it both eery and heartbreaking.

I enjoyed getting to know Willow, the main protagonist.  I found her situation with the death of her twin to be utterly devastating.  At times, I found this to be quite a difficult read; mature themes are dealt with throughout and there is also some graphic description of self harming.  That said, Parkin dealt with each of these themes sensitively and managed to tell a haunting yet hopeful tale.

The Slaughter Man, is a gripping read but definitely not one for the faint hearted!

The Slaughter Man is out now in paperback and you can buy it here

My thanks go to Lucy Chamberlain and Legend Press for my invitation to the #blogtour and also for my finished copy of the book in exchange for my honest review.  If you enjoyed my post, please do check out my others, and also the other stops on the #blogtour (see below).

Until next time!









I Will Make You Pay by Teresa Driscoll

Welcome to my late night stop on the #blogtour for I Will Make You Pay by Teresa Driscoll!  I’ve heard many good things about this book in the build up to release, so am delighted to be an early reader.



Every Wednesday, like clockwork, the terror returns.

It seems like an ordinary Wednesday, until the phone rings. A mysterious caller with a chilling threat. Journalist Alice Henderson hangs up, ready to dismiss it as a hoax against the newspaper. But the next Wednesday, the stalker makes another move—and it becomes clear that this is all about Alice.

Someone wants her to suffer, but for what? Her articles have made her a popular local champion—could it be her past rather than her work that’s put her life in danger? Alice is determined not to give in to fear, but with the police investigation at a dead end, her boyfriend insists on hiring private investigator Matthew Hill.

With every passing Wednesday the warnings escalate, until it’s not only Alice but also her family in the stalker’s sights. As her tormentor closes in, can Alice uncover what she’s being punished for before the terrifying threats become an unthinkable reality?

My Thoughts

Teresa Driscoll is a new author (to me) and I was intrigued by the premise of this book as soon as I heard of its proposed release.  Prank phone calls are indeed unpleasant and menacing, but this book elevates their magnitude in terms of fear, sending it off the scale.

I Will Make You Pay is a ticking time bomb of sheer dread; Driscoll cleverly hooks you in from the beginning with Alice, her extremely likeable protagonist before taking you on a rollercoaster ride at a galloping pace.  She utilises short sharp chapters to maintain tension and her pacy writing style keeps the pages turning,

I found this book to be highly claustrophobic and quietly terrifying; I even dreamt about it.  Everyone is a suspect; no one is to be trusted.  I was kept guessing throughout and genuinely had no idea of the outcome until the shocking climax.

I Will Make You Pay is dark, disturbing and utterly compelling; I defy anyone to read this book and not be impressed.

I Will Make You Pay is out now in paperback and you can buy it here

My thanks go to Megan Denholm of Ed PR for my invitation to the #blogtour and also to Thomas & Mercer and Amazon Publishing for my finished copy of the book in exchange for my honest review.  If you enjoyed my post, please do check out my others, and also the other stops on the #blogtour (see below).

Until next time!









A House of Ghosts by W.C Ryan

Welcome to my stop on the #blogtour for A House of Ghosts by W.C Ryan!  I love a good ghost story so was delighted when I got the opportunity to read this.



Winter 1917. As the First World War enters its most brutal phase, back home in England, everyone is seeking answers to the darkness that has seeped into their lives.

At Blackwater Abbey, on an island off the Devon coast, Lord Highmount has arranged a spiritualist gathering to contact his two sons who were lost in the conflict. But as his guests begin to arrive, it gradually becomes clear that each has something they would rather keep hidden. Then, when a storm descends on the island, the guests will find themselves trapped. Soon one of their number will die.

For Blackwater Abbey is haunted in more ways than one . .
An unrelentingly gripping mystery packed with twists and turns, A House of Ghosts is the perfect chilling read this winter.

My Thoughts

Firstly, and to my absolute delight, this book opened to reveal none other than a map! I am a HUGE fan of maps in books so knew instantly that I was on to a winner!  There are also a small number of pen drawings in the opening pages and at the beginning of each chapter; each so lovely and detailed.  My particular favourite was that of the lighthouse.

Whilst this wasn’t quite the “haunted house” story I was expecting; I was enthralled by this creepy, suspenseful and fabulously atmospheric, mystery novel.  More of a spy thriller than a ghost story, I was gripped by its twists and turns, and it kept me guessing throughout.

With a wonderful cast of characters; each uniquely fascinating in themselves, this book has a delicious “old school” mystery feel to it.  Perfect for fans of Agatha Christie books and others of that ilk.

A House of Ghosts is an entertaining and fast paced story, which really is the perfect autumnal, fire-side read.

A House of Ghosts is out now in paperback and you can buy it here

My thanks go to Tracy Fenton of Compulsive Readers for my invitation to the #blogtour and also to Clare Kelly of Zaffre for my beautiful, finished copy in exchange for my honest review.  If you enjoyed my post, please do check out my others, and also the other stops on the #blogtour (see below).

Until next time!









Three Little Truths by Eithne Shortall

Welcome to my stop on the #blogtour for Three Little Truths by Eithne Shortall! Shortall is a new author (to me) and I was excited to get stuck in with this intriguing sounding story.



On the idyllic Pine Road, three women are looking for a fresh start…

Martha was a force of nature, but since moving to Dublin under mysterious circumstances, she can’t seem to find her footing.

Robin was the ‘it’ girl in school. Now she’s back at her parents’ with her four-year-old, vowing that her ex is out of the picture for good.

Edie has the perfect life, but she longs for a baby, the acceptance of her neighbours, and to find out why her dream husband is avoiding their dream future.

The friendships of these women will change their lives forever, revealing the secrets, rivalries and scandals that hide behind every door…

My Thoughts

I enjoyed Three Little Truths.  It was a lovely soap opera of a book with a cast of characters I felt I really got to know and connected with; with a modernised slant of the introduction of WhatsApp messages punctuating the narrative.

This book felt like a curtain twitcher’s dream; fabulous gossipy conversations between friends with some cosy mystery thrown in together with secrets whispering from the pages.  The characters really came to life and the addition of the WhatsApp messages made the connection feel more intimate, making the reader feel more involved.

This was an absorbing read and I found myself smiling at the tiny community where everyone knows everyone’s business and I enjoyed watching how events unfolded.

Three Little Truths was a delightful, easy read; perfect to read on a cold day, curled up by the fire with steaming cup of tea.

Three Little Truths is out now in paperback and you can buy it here

My thanks go to Anne Cater of Random Things Tours for my invitation to the #blogtour and also to Kate Straker of Corvus/Atlantic Books for my beautiful, proof copy in exchange for my honest review.  If you enjoyed my post, please do check out my others, and also the other stops on the #blogtour (see below).

Until next time!









The Family by Louise Jensen

It’s my stop on the #blogtour for The Family by Louise Jenson today, and I am thrilled to be sharing an extract with you!





Laura is grieving after the sudden death of her husband. Struggling to cope emotionally and financially, Laura is grateful when a local community, Oak Leaf Organics, offer her and her 17-year-old daughter Tilly a home.

But as Laura and Tilly settle into life with their new ‘family’, sinister things begin to happen. When one of the community dies in suspicious circumstances Laura wants to leave but Tilly, enthralled by the charismatic leader, Alex, refuses to go.

Desperately searching for a way to save her daughter, Laura uncovers a horrifying secret but Alex and his family aren’t the only ones with something to hide. Just as Laura has been digging into their past, they’ve been digging into hers and she discovers the terrifying reason they invited her and Tilly in, and why they’ll never let them leave…



Part One: The Cause

Chapter One
Before LAURA
Fears. We all have them. That creeping unease. An aversion to something. For me it’s spiders. It stemmed from a nature documentary years before about the black weaver, a matriphagous breed that switches on her babies’ cannibalistic instinct by encouraging her spiderlings to devour her. Unable to tear myself away, I had watched through splayed fingers as the mother circled her lair, tapping and vibrating the web, stimulating her young’s primal instinct until they attacked her in a frenzied swarm. Hundreds of scuttling legs. Sinking fangs. The sound of the adult being consumed after venom had dissolved her from the inside out had stayed with me. What possessed a mother to sacrifice herself like that? How could her children turn on her? Of course that was long before I was a parent.

The instant I saw Tilly, tiny hands fisted, eyes squinting in the unaccustomed light, I plunged headfirst into a love that was absolute. A fierce desire as her mother to shield her from the world however I could. And she needed shielding. I knew how damaging it could be out there.
I had been damaged.

That morning though I had no idea how I was going to shelter her from the contents of the letter. As I drove towards school, I tightened my grip on the steering wheel as if it might somehow stop the sense of everything spinning out of my control. It didn’t.

What was I going to do?

I slotted my rusting Volvo between two shiny 4x4s. Hordes of kids traipsed past the car, spines curved under the weight of the books they carried, dragging their feet towards the black wrought-iron gates. I rubbed my temples, trying to dispel the pounding behind my eyes.

‘Do I have to go back to school, Mum?’

I heard the sadness in her voice. I heard it in my own as I said, ‘It’s been six weeks, Tilly.’ As though that was long enough to make everything right.
It wasn’t.

She wasn’t coping well. Neither was I but, for her, I pretended we’d get through it. We’d be okay. Even if I didn’t know how. ‘We talked about this,’ I said, but not unkindly. ‘It was your idea to come back on a Friday. Ease yourself into it. It’s one day, Tilly.’

She tucked her unruly dark hair behind her ears as she looked
anxiously out of the window. Her face looked smaller, skin ashen, black bags nestled beneath bloodshot eyes. She’d refused the offer of counselling, spending so much of her time shut away in her room that now, being outside was overwhelming.

‘You’ve already so much to catch up on but if you really can’t face it I won’t make you. You can come and help me in the shop instead. It’s time to try to re-join the world.’ I spoke slowly, deliberately, although each word was rough, grazing my tongue. Our Family Liaison Officer had said it was best to forge a routine, a semblance of normality, but was it? Sometimes being a parent was torturous. Spinning in circles like a bird with a broken wing. But Tilly was studying for A Levels. It was such an important year. Besides, at school she’d be with Rhianon and, although I knew the cousins were no longer inseparable, I hoped that away from the family drama they could begin to heal.

God knows, we all needed to heal.


It was dizzying how quickly she pinballed between sadness and anger, but I knew it was all part of the hard ball of grief that ricocheted inside her.

She flung open the car door. A lengthy sigh escaping the mouth that no longer smiled.

‘Wait,’ I called, snatching her lunch from the backseat. ‘If it becomes too much you can always ring me.’ She snatched the Tupperware from my hands, her expression as hardened as the plastic.

‘Try to have a good—’ The slam of the car door sliced my sentence in two. ‘Day.’ A constriction in my throat prevented me calling her back. What could I have said to make things right? She stalked away without a backwards glance, swamped by her black winter coat, which snapped at her ankles as she walked. Weight had fallen off her. Again, I had found her half-eaten breakfast dumped in the bin. On top of the browning banana skin, a smattering of Rice Krispies ground to dust where she had crushed them with her spoon. She never could stand milk.

She stooped as she crossed the road without waiting for the green man, the weight of both her rucksack and the world on her shoulders. I contemplated calling her back but I knew she couldn’t hide away forever. If she rang me I could be back there within fifteen minutes, no time at all, but I knew sometimes even sixty seconds could feel like an eternity. The desire to protect her, in the way I hadn’t been protected at her age, to whisk her away for a fresh start, was fierce and stabbing, but after that morning’s post, it seemed more out of reach than ever.

Tilly merged with the throng of children crunching over the autumn orange leaves that carpeted the pavement. I was reminded of the times Gavan and I would tramp though the forest searching for gleaming conkers, a wellington-booted Tilly nestled between us, her small gloved hands in ours. The smell of moss and earth. It was still so clear to me, the joy of it.

One, two, three, lift! We’d swing her back and forth as she clung on like a baby monkey, her infectious giggles making Gavan and I laugh. Even when she grew too tall, too heavy, she’d raise her knees to her chest to prevent her feet dragging on the floor, as if she couldn’t quite accept how big she’d grown. I watched her as she stamped up the drab grey steps, finding it hard to equate the carefree, smiling child of seemingly five minutes ago with this solemn seventeen-year-old. She was a young woman now, lost to me, almost. The days of being able to make everything in her world right again with a mug of hot chocolate and a cuddle were long gone, and I longed to have them back.

The Special Constable with the patchy beard and straggly ponytail, who patrolled the secondary school at 8.45 and 3.15 every day with a ferocity that would put a lioness guarding cubs to shame, half-ran towards me. My rational self knew that he was going to tell me off for parking in the wrong place, but still, my hands were shaking as I released the handbrake. Each time I saw a police uniform it evoked such a physical response, sickness rising like a serpent. I zoomed off the yellow lines before he reached the car, and it wasn’t until he disappeared from sight in my rear-view mirror that my breathing began to slow.

I would always associate the police with bad news.

With endless, endless questions.

Sometimes it all blended into a swirling, solid mass. The
past. The present. Impossible to separate.

The fear has never really left me. Recurrently concealing
itself in the layer between skin and flesh, waiting patiently for another trigger. The chance to attack.

I can’t remember.

And sometimes, consciously, I couldn’t remember. The lie became my truth. The pressure in my head insufferable.

Then, shadowed by night, the bony fingers of the past would drag me back and I would kick and scream before I’d wake. Duvet crumpled on the floor. Pyjamas drenched in sweat. And alone.

Always alone.

The scar on my forehead throbbed a reminder of my helplessness.
Thoughts of the letter filled my mind once more as I drove towards work.

What was I going to do?

Well I don’t know about you but that piece of writing has certainly sent a shiver down my spine!  The Family is out now in paperback and ebook format and you can buy it here

My thanks go to Jessica Lee and HQ Stories for the invitation to the tour and my gorgeous finished copy.  If you enjoyed my post, please do check out my others and also the other stops on the #blogtour (see below).

Until next time!