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Clare writes inspirational romance, usually of a suspenseful nature. Her books are available through her publisher Pelican Book Group and Amazon. She is married with three kids and lives in the UK. She loves watching sci-fi, crime drama, cross stitching, reading and baking.

Thursday, 8 October 2015

Adventures in crocheting.

In August of last year - 2014 - we went on holiday as always and I asked Mum to teach me how to crochet. So she taught me how to make a granny square using odd bits of her wool. It was hilarious in more ways than one as I struggled and at times longed to toss it across the room. When finally I managed the first bit I announced proudly "Look, I made a circle."
Mum grinned. "Well done. It's meant to be a square."
They are now known in my house as squircles - square circles. 

 my first square
well square ish. hence the name squircle!

I bought some wool and kept going in a vain attempt to crack the granny square before i reached 50. Unsure what to do with my little square, I simply kept adding rows to it. Until the square was roughly 16 rows big.

The cat borrowed it on one occasion... This was before she was taught the table was off limits.


then i made another 5 and got mum to teach me how to join them together and edge.

The really confusing thing is the names of the stitches. Thing is we Brits call them one thing and the American's something different.

So... what we call a double crochet in the US is a single crochet.
We call it a triple. The US calls it a double.

Sooooooo.... when i follow a pattern as I'm starting to do so, it's very, very confusing. And if I've used an online pattern in a blog entry, i will share the links and the credit as it's only fair.

Mum says I can now do more than she can....as she can make blankets and nothing else. I've made Tardis's, rabbit, teddy, owl, mouse... but more of that in another entry.

Wednesday, 30 September 2015

Into the clouds by Marilyn Leach

Ascension Sunday balloons are not the only things disappearing in the English village of Aidan Kirkwood.  When the villagers celebrate the first Ascension Sunday Processional in fifty years, someone goes missing.  A well off window that was amongst the crowd has vanished into thin air.  And, she’s not the only one who’s nowhere to be found. 
Berdie Elliott, the local vicar’s wife, goes into sleuth mode as eccentric cat lovers, a secretive informant, Portuguese holidays, an enigmatic “tree” house, and tangled family dynamics all add to the perplexing affair.  Don’t let this mystery slip from your sight.

Into the Clouds Excerpt
With the ferocity of a sudden clap of thunder in a spring storm, the vicarage door bell invaded the treasured moment.
Hugh sighed.
“I’ll get it.”  Berdie pulled herself away and made way to the front door, deciding not to grumble but cherish the past uninterrupted hours shared with Hugh.
“Lillie,” Berdie greeted her nicely dressed but unexpected guest at the opened door.  “Come in.”
“Must get on, but just wanted to tell you that Mrs. Mikalos was not seen by any local doctors nor admitted to any of the area hospitals including their morgues.”
“Well done, Lillie.”  Berdie looked past Lillie’s shoulder to see Granville Morrison and his idling black Ford Fiesta with the word Transport painted on the side of the vehicle.  He and his brother were the newest entrepreneurs in Aidan Kirkwood’s village services.  “Having dinner with Loren in Timsley?  Setting out plans for the Aunt Margaret visit, are we?”
A blues guitar reverberated from Berdie’s bag in the hallway while at the same moment Granville sounded his horn.
Lillie turned in a flash.  “I’ll tell you all about it later,” she called out while walking briskly out to the taxi.
“Good, I’ll look forward to it.”  Berdie closed the door and lunged toward her bag just in time to hear Hugh’s voice.
“What is that?” he called out.
Berdie grabbed her mobile and put it to her ear.  “Mrs. Elliott”.  She heard what sounded like a hoarse gasp of air.
“She’s in danger,” the graveled voice pronounced.
This person was not a playful lad.  Berdie tried to keep her wits about her.
“Who’s in danger?”
“She’s in danger,” the wheezing voice repeated.  “No police.”
“Who is this?”  Berdie hoped she didn’t sound as alarmed as she felt.  A course wheeze and a click were her only response.
“Who was at the door?” Hugh asked as he bounced into the hallway.
Berdie shoved her mobile in her bag.  “Lillie,” she worked at appearing nonchalant.  “She’s already gone.”
“Are you all right?” 
Hugh’s question bored into Berdie’s veneer, but she held her own.  “I just hope Lillie and Loren get on well at Aunt Margaret’s.”
“Someone on the mobile?”  He pointed to her bag.
Berdie was not about to tell him the whole of it.
“I have no clue who the person was.”  She laughed hoping Hugh would not catch the nervous edge of it.
He smiled.  “Oh, I had one of those the other day.”
“You did?” 
“Some bank I think it was, a survey.  Those computer generated calls, so garbled and impersonal.  Invasive as well.”
“Yes, invasive,” she improvised.
“Care for a cuppa?”
“Splendid.”  She could use one at the moment.
“I’ll put the kettle on.”  Hugh advanced toward the kitchen.
Berdie sunk to the bottom step of the hall stairway.  She pulled her mobile out and tried to retrieve the call but it showed as number withheld.  “She’s in danger, no police,” she repeated the words to herself.  “Dear Lord have mercy.” 

Buy link

Friday, 25 September 2015

Copenhagen Cozenage by Kristen Joy Wilks

Morgan Ravn arrives in Denmark seeking clues about her mysterious heritage. What she finds is a flirtatious stranger who regales her with a story about a jewel thief from 1958 and then abandons her with a large unruly dog. 
Can Morgan locate the irresponsible pet owner before his monstrous canine drags her through every puddle in Copenhagen and sheds all over her last dress? And why are strangers dogging her every step, snapping photos? Is the shutter happy behavior a bizarre Danish custom or something more sinister?

I dropped my purse.
With a few clacking steps, I maneuvered back to where it had fallen. Was my skirt too short to bend over? I wobbled a little but snagged the purse with a finger. My heel stuck in the strap. I yanked. It remained immovable. I yanked again. No luck. With careful precision I attempted to liberate the purse while simultaneously lifting the offending heel off the ground. Standing on one leg while wearing girlish attire for the first time in nearly a decade is harder than it looks.
I pitched forward toward the rolling luggage carousal with windmilling arms and inarticulate squeaks of dismay. My fashionably-clad self plopped down amongst the luggage. Unmindful of my peril, the conveyer continued to trundle along toward a black tunnel where the bags were slurped down into the darkness. A red sign on the left caught my eye. 
No Bags with Lose Straps No Luggage Constructed of Soft, Easily Shredded Materials. Any Damage is the Fault of the Ticket Holder.  
My person was a plethora of soft, strappy, easily shredded material.
I struggled to escape. The fate of a flimsy duffel bag awaited me within the dark maw of that luggage tunnel. I kicked my legs like a frantic ladybug upended by a pack of Kindergarteners. Stuck. I was stuck and this infernal pencil skirt resisted all my efforts to right myself.  My only chance was to wriggle like a worm and flap my arms, thus launching my person off the conveyer.
I glanced at the approaching tunnel, and then down at the gleaming tile where I would surely break my nose. Ugh, I had no choice. Perhaps I would manage some kind of miracle handstand and not actually smash my face. I flopped and scrambled until my head hung over the conveyer edge. My hands scrabbled at the slick tiles below me, but the conveyer failed to slow. My only chance was to jump. One last desperate wiggle and I began to tip. I closed my eyes and threw my arms out, hoping to soften my imminent crash. 
I fell and landed in a pair of strong arms.
Someone had snatched me out of the air. My head rested against a large, solid shoulder. I lay there for a moment, dazed. My hairclip hung over my eyes in a nest of tangles. I pushed the mess of brown and gold strands aside and looked up. It was the dog guy. I was in his arms, pressed snugly against him, heart pounding, and mortally embarrassed. ‚
“Hey, you ok?” He peered around my fly-away hair, his blue eyes intent.
“Um, my shoe, and the purse, my luggage is pink!”
“So I would presume.” He grinned and tipped me onto my feet, leaving his hands on my shoulders for a moment until I was steady. Then he bent and scooped up my pink shoe.  The dog started barking again, and the dog guy rummaged in his jacket for another treat.
“Sit here for a moment and catch your breath. You can watch Leroy for me. I’ll go ask about your bag.”
Oh, my goodness, he was adorable and gallant. But the power of my new clothes was surely waning. The linen suit sported black smears from the conveyer belt, and my left heel was now bent sideways. 
Leroy blasted me with another deafening bark. His brown eyes were expectant, and drool glistened in moist strings from his jowls. He didn’t seem too ferocious, only hungry.
“It’s just one suitcase and under the name, Morgan Ravn.” He nodded and started off. After a couple steps, he turned back.
“And I’m August. August Bruun.” I shook his hand and pushed my glasses back up on my nose, as though this happened to me every day. I mean I talked to guys all the time for work. But they never, ever had dimples.

Kristen Joy Wilks is the wife of a Camp Director and board game enthusiast, the mother of three fierce boys, and the owner of a Newfoundland dog. She spends her time preventing her hubby from filling another wall of their dining room with board games, thwarting her 3 boys’ efforts to sneak their pet chickens onto their bunk beds whenever she turns her back to fold laundry, and trying not to trip over the throng of random teenagers that swarm her house to play all those board games. Kristen can be found tucked under a tattered quilt in an overstuffed chair at 4:00am writing a wide variety of dramatic tales or at www.kristenjoywilks.com.

Friday, 18 September 2015

Where hearts meet by LoRee Peery

Shattered by the loss of her parents, Deena pours her love into her patients at an assisted living facility. When the son of one her charges starts showing up to spend time with his mother, Deena's wary heart is warmed by his attention to his mother...and to her. Simon is plagued by his ex-wife's disappearance years before. When he meets Deena, who closely resembles the woman, he fears his attraction is based only on Deena's looks. But she exhibits a warmth his ex-wife never had. Dare he risk his once broken heart? As two lonely souls pursue a tentative, budding love, secrets and lies come forward to tear them apart. Can Simon and Deena overcome loss and allow their hearts to mend?

Deena strained to catch what he’d said. “I’m sorry. I should have been more sensitive to your reunion with Angelina. I don’t mean to pry.”
“You aren’t prying at all. I consider you close enough to confide in. We’ve already shared a lot of who we are. And my ex is no longer my focus. You came into my life because of my mother. You mean something to me now, aside from that professional service, based on your own merit.”
She’d think about all that later, when she was alone. Then she’d dwell on the subject of her growing love for Simon.
But wait. A short time ago she’d thought of friendship as her only option. She had to sort this out. Later. Right now she was blessed by a few moments of time spent with this wonderful man.
Their walk had gone fast.
She pointed to the full color poster outside the yogurt shop window in front of them. “I’m all for paying attention to food, as in a banana split. How about you?”
“Double fudge sundae with all the trimmings has my mouth watering. Shall we sit outside?”
At her nod, he pulled out a wire back ice cream chair for her and went in to place their orders.
Her mind drifted while he was inside.
Giggling teen girls circled one table and a dark-complexioned girl of mixed race sat across the table from a woman Deena took for a grandmother.
Simon would be the only male seated outside when he joined her.
She observed him through the window as he stood at the counter. Her gaze traversed the caramel colored leather boots, the casual fitting light denim jeans topped by a tangerine button-down shirt with rolled cuffs, past the corded neck and whisker shaded jaw on up to his finger grooved hair. Her heart beat ever faster and her chest visibly rose and fell.
Then he turned and caught her eye, slanting a smile that turned her blood molten.
She needed ice-cold yogurt to cool her down. No doubt about it, she had it bad. Oh, if she could shout to the world that Simon Hart was her one true love!
He used the back of his hand to push through the door. Every female watched him approach her table. His wide shouldered swagger, his pure physical appeal probably had them salivating and inwardly sighing. But the macho man was with her.
She cleared her throat, focused on the cherry atop her banana split, and willed her system to simmer down. “This looks delectable. Thank you so much.”
“You’re very welcome. I almost gobbled up that whipped cream topping.”
“Hey, you’ve got enough chocolate there to coat your arteries.” She set the cherry aside to savor last. “And it looks like a handful of pecans.”
“Reminds me of your lips,” he said, leaning low across the small table to place paper napkins near her hand.
“Uhm…Hmm?” she murmured around a bite of banana.
“The cherry is the color of your lipstick. You know it just begs for me to taste it and make it fade.”
“My lipstick wore off hours ago. But you’ve got chocolate on the corner of your mouth.” She pointed with her black plastic spoon.
“Want to kiss it off for me?”
“You are talking way too crazy, unless you want to give those girls at the far table something to drool over.”
“No thanks. There’s only one girl out here I want to drool over me.”


Christian romance author LoRee Peery writes to feel alive, as a way of contributing, and to pass forward the hope of rescue from sin. She writes of redeeming grace with a sense of place. LoRee clings to I John 5:4 and prays her family sees that faith. She has authored the Frivolities Series and other e-books. Her desire for readers, the same as for her characters, is to discover where they fit in this life journey to best work out the Lord’s life plan. She is who she is by the grace of God: Christian, country girl, wife, mother, grandmother, sister, friend, and author. She’s been a reader since before kindergarten. One day she slapped a story in her lap. “I could write better than this.” (Lofty assumption, eh?) Her dear hubby challenged, “Why don’t you?” Thus her writing journey began many moons ago. Connect with LoRee through these lwww.loreepeery.com https://twitter.com/LoreePeery 

Monday, 14 September 2015

Challenging Miss Valentine by Cindy K Green

Ella Valentine doubts she'll ever recover when her twin brother passes away in college. Four years later, living in a new city and working for a large corporation, she gets caught in a lie and saddled with a new boss who she suspects might be losing his mind. Now he has her enacting insane acts of espionage while trying to catch the culprit who has embezzled money from their company. If it wasn't for his deep brown eyes and lazy smile she just might quit. Is this God's plan for her life? She isn't even sure who she is anymore without her twin and the way things are going she just might end up in the loony bin.

Charles "Charlie" Murray II may be the heir presumptive to his father's industrial dynasty, but all he really wants is to create--be it drawings or a marketing campaign. When he's summoned to the home office to take over the position of CFO, he discovers his new assistant is the same woman who passed him a phony phone number in a diner the previous weekend. If he can figure out who's been stealing from the company, he just might attain the position of his dreams or will he sacrifice it all to be with Ella.

Reader Reviews:
“A Charming Comedy!”

“Delightful Read!”

“This is a quick easy read will lots of fun twists and turns.”

“I was drawn into this comedy from the very beginning. The characters quickly become quite real to me.”

“What fun reading about Ella and Charlie and their sometimes rocky and always hilarious road to realizing their love for each other.”


Taking a wobbly second step back, Ella’s heel slid on the slick tile flooring of the diner. Her feet flew out from under her, and she landed down on her backside in a matter of seconds. This couldn’t have been more embarrassing if she’d planned in every detail the best way to make a total fool of herself in front of a complete stranger. Then she connected with his amazing eyes as he looked down at her.
“Are you okay?” He offered her a hand up, but she could tell he held back a smile.
Great! He thought she was as much of a klutz as she did.
“I’m fine.” With his help, she came to her feet. Then she brushed off the back of her black dress pants.
“Are you sure?” His voice was as dreamy as the rest of him—low and smooth with just a trace of teasing. “Maybe I should check your eyes for a concussion.” His dark eyes danced with his restrained laughter.
“Are you a doctor?” She played along.
“No, I just always see them do that on TV.” He grinned. “Here.” In his hand, he held a packet of sweetener. “You wanted some of these, right?” His gaze wasn’t mocking, as she’d thought earlier. It was more like curious and amused.

Purchase Links:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Challenging-Miss-Valentine-Cindy-Green-ebook/dp/B01267604E/
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Challenging-Miss-Valentine-Cindy-Green-ebook/dp/B01267604E/
Amazon Japan: http://www.amazon.co.jp/Challenging-Miss-Valentine-English-Edition-ebook/dp/B01267604E
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/challenging-miss-valentine-cindy-k-green/1122343696?ean=2940151144018#productInfoTabs
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/challenging-miss-valentine

Cindy K. Green has worked as a middle school history & English teacher, a frozen yogurt server and a golf magazine employee. Today she's a multi-published, award-winning author, a mother, a wife, and a homeschooler too. This native Californian now resides in North Carolina with her husband, two boys, and two cats named Chloe & Kassey.

Facebook (Cindy K. Green)
Twitter (@cindykgreen)

Cindy is available for book club visits in person or via Skype. Contact her at cindy@cindykgreen.com to set up a date.

Friday, 11 September 2015

Summer's Flame by Wendy Davy

Firefighter Aiden Hawk has found his calling - giving back to the community that helped raise him - but deep down he longs for more. When Summer Cassel comes into his life hope sparks, and he dares to dream of a family to call his own, but each time he nears her, his nerves kick in and a shy streak takes hold.

When Aiden moves in next door, Summer is determined to give him a proper welcome. After all, the handsome man ignites a flame she can't seem to resist. But, she doesn't take risks, especially those involving her heart, so when she discovers there is more to her bashful neighbor than meets the eye, Summer must make the ultimate decision...

Will she be bound by fear or released by faith?

He stepped close. "I thought you'd be asleep by now."

"I saw the news." Her voice shook.

A mixture of emotions cascaded through him. Had she waited up for him?

She tucked her lower lip between her teeth as if hesitant as to what to say next. After a moment, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing tight against him.

The compassionate gesture reached his soul. He folded her into his arms, rested his cheek on the top of her head, and inhaled her sweet honeysuckle scent. Heartbeats collided. Warmth seeped through clothes. She had waited. He wasn't alone. No more pretending. "I don't think this friendship thing is going to work out for us."

She released her hold and slowly brought up her wide-eyed gaze.
Cupping her face in his hands, Aiden smoothed his thumbs along her soft skin. "You are difficult to resist, Summer Cassel. Much  more so than I could've imagined."

The pulse point at the base of her throat went wild. His heart rate matched hers. And, although he'd promised himself he wouldn't cross the line - he bent his head and kissed her.

She sucked in a breath. And, why wouldn't she be surprised?

They'd agreed only to be friends.

BUY LINK: http://pelicanbookgroup.com/summersflame/

Tuesday, 8 September 2015

Test post

this is just to see if this works. Just added all the details to the iPad so I can post from here too.  The previous post was to show Dad how blogger works. Ok so let's put in a random photo.

 Wow look how long my hair used to be

Speaking of hair, I'm having it shaved off soon for charity. Links will be in another post.  
This is so strange doing it on the iPad not the comp. only this is I might need a photo app to access the pics on here. Let's try something.  No. So that's not gonna work cos this isn't an android tablet. Or a phone. Maybe there is another way. 

Anyway. This is me waffling randomly. And signing off to the opticians again. So tired of this now. But that is another long story. As is the fridge that ices up and drips water all over my food. Did you know that's normal behaviour for a fridge? Well according to the engineer that came out it is!!!