Rewrite the Stars by Emma Heatherington #BlogTourReview

About the book 

From the moment they meet one December day there’s something between Charlotte Taylor and her brother’s best friend, Tom Farley.  But fate isn’t ready to let them be together yet.

Another five years pass before their paths cross again, and this time a tragic secret forces Charlie to make a choice.

The years pass and Charlie moves on but she can never forget Tom.  Can she leave the life she has built for one last chance?  Or is the one that got away not really the one at all?

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My thoughts 

Don’t we all think about our “what if” moments from time to time?  I know I do!

What if you had gone in a different direction in love, work or some other life choices?  Would you have ended up a completely different person, in a very different place in life?

What struck me most about Rewrite the Stars is how realistic this whole storyline is.  It is so very well written and extremely easy to fall into and get lost in for a few hours.  Once I began reading, I became absorbed in the story very quickly.

Rewrite the Stars is a heart-warming, emotional book.  My heart-strings didn’t know what was going on – I was laughing, crying and reminiscing to beat the band.  I love nothing more than a book that can take me on a proper emotional journey and that is precisely what happened whilst reading Rewrite the Stars.

I feel like there is a message in this story for all of us, I really do, but only you can work out what it means to you and your own life.

A thoroughly enjoyable, uplifting story and, by far, the best rollercoaster ride I’ve ever been on!

Do yourself a favour and buy it today!

Huge thanks, as always, to Ciara in Harper Collins for including me on the blog tour for this incredible book.  As you can see below, I’m in some great company.

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Good Girls by Amanda Brookfield #BlogTourExtract

January 2013

Eleanor decided to take a taxi from the station, even though she knew it would cost ten precious pounds and mean a wait. Being so rural, only a handful of cars served the area, but she didn’t want to be a bother to Howard, her brother-in-law. She texted both him and Kat to say she would be there within the hour and stayed as warm as she could in the small arched station entrance. It was a cold, dank morning, not raining for once but with air like icy metal against her skin.

The taxi driver who pulled up some twenty minutes later exuded an attitude of reluctance that made Eleanor disinclined to make conversation. When they hit a tail-back, thanks to a loop round the old Roman bridge, still not fixed from the heavy flooding over the New Year, he thumped his steering wheel. ‘A bloody joke. We can land men on the moon and still it takes three weeks to fix a few old stones.’

Eleanor murmured agreement, but found that she didn’t mind much. The fields on either side of the road were still visibly waterlogged. After the grimy mêlée of south London, it was a visual feast – ethereal, shimmering silver bands engraved with the black reflections of leafless trees and smudgy January clouds.

The usual criss-cross of feelings was stirring at being back in such proximity to the landscape of her childhood. Just twenty miles away, her father was a resident in a small care home called The Bressingham, which he had once included in his rounds as a parish priest, days long since lost to him through the fog of dementia. Howard and Kat’s substantial Georgian house was ten miles in the opposite direction, on the fringes of a town called Fairfield. They had moved from Holland Park seven years before, a year after the birth of their third child, Evie. At the time, Eleanor had been surprised to get the change of address card. She had always regarded her little sister and husband as life-long townies, Kat with her posh quirky dress-making commissions to private clients and Howard with his big-banker job. It was because they saw the house in a magazine and fell in love with it, Kat had explained at one of their rare subsequent encounters, in the manner of one long used to plucking things she wanted out of life, like fruits off a tree.

But recently life had not been so cooperative. A small tumour had been removed from Kat’s bowel and she was in bed recovering. Howard had reported the event earlier in the week, by email, and when Eleanor had got on the phone, as he must have known she would, he had said that the operation had gone well and that Kat was adamant that she didn’t need sisterly visits. No further treatment was required. She would be up and about in a matter of days. Their regular babysitter, Hannah, was increasing her hours to plug gaps with the children and he was taking a week off from his daily commute into the City.

‘But I am her sister,’ Eleanor had insisted, hurt, in spite of knowing better. ‘I’d just like to see her. Surely she can understand that.’ Howard had said he would get back to her, but then Kat had phoned back herself, saying why didn’t Eleanor pop down on Saturday afternoon.

‘Nice,’ said the driver, following Eleanor’s instructions to turn between the laburnums that masked the handsome red-brick walls and gleaming white sash windows and pulling up behind the two family cars, both black, one a tank-sized station wagon, the other an estate. He fiddled with his satnav while Eleanor dug into her purse for the right money.

I am not the rich one, she wanted to cry, seeing the visible sag of disappointment on his sheeny unshaven face at the sight of her twenty-pence tip; I am merely the visiting elder sister who rents a flat by a Clapham railway line, who tutors slow or lazy kids to pay her bills and who has recently agreed to write an old actor’s memoirs for a sum that will barely see off her overdraft.

Howard answered the door, taking long enough to compound Eleanor’s apprehensions about having pushed for the visit. He was in a Barbour and carrying three brightly coloured backpacks, clearly on the way out of the house. ‘Good of you to come.’ Brandishing the backpacks, he kissed her perfunctorily on both cheeks. ‘Brownies, go-carting and a riding lesson – pick-ups in that order. Then two birthday parties and a bowling alley. God help me. See you later maybe. She’s upstairs,’ he added, somewhat unnecessarily.

‘The Big Sister arrives,’ Kat called out, before Eleanor had even crossed the landing. ‘Could you tug that curtain wider?’ she added as Eleanor entered the bedroom. ‘I want as much light as possible.’

‘So, how are you?’ Eleanor asked, adjusting the offending drape en route to kissing Kat’s cheek, knowing it was no moment to take offence at the Big Sister thing, in spite of the reflex of deep, instinctive certainty that Kat had said it to annoy. At thirty-eight she was the big sister, by three years. She was also almost six foot, with the heavy-limbed, dark-haired, brown-eyed features that were such echoes of their father, while Kat, as had been pointed out as far back as either of them could remember, had inherited an uncanny replication of their mother’s striking looks, from the lithe elfin frame and flinty-blue feline eyes, to the extraordinary eye-catching tumble of white-blonde curls. ‘You look so well,’ Eleanor exclaimed, happiness at the truth of this observation making her voice bounce, while inwardly she marvelled at her sibling’s insouciant beauty, utterly undiminished by the recent surgery. Her skin was like porcelain, faintly freckled; her hair in flames across the pillow.

‘Well, thank you, and thank goodness, because I feel extremely well,’ Kat retorted. ‘So please don’t start telling me off again for not having kept you better informed. As I said on the phone, the fucking thing was small and isolated. They have removed it – snip-snip,’ she merrily scissored two fingers in the air.

‘So I am not going to need any further treatment, which is a relief frankly, since I would hate to lose this lot.’ She yanked at one of the flames. ‘Shallow, I know, but there it is.’ ‘It’s not shallow,’ Eleanor assured her quietly, experiencing one of the sharp twists of longing for the distant days when they had been little enough and innocent enough to take each other’s affections for granted. They had been like strangers for years now in comparison, shouting across an invisible abyss.

good girls cover

You can check out Amanda’s website here. She can also be found on Instagram and Facebook.

Good Girls is available to purchase here.

Thanks so very much to Boldwood for including me on this blog tour and for allowing me to share this pretty amazing extract.

I hope you all enjoy this book x


The Family by Louise Jensen #BlogTourReview


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…

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My thoughts 

This author is a guarantee to an exciting and thoroughly gripping thriller, in my experience.

A sense of tension accompanied by my own sense of unease, grew and grew as I was lured deeper into “The Family”.

I was already intrigued after reading the blurb and that intrigue never once dissipated. If anything, it grew as I turned the pages which led further into the story.

It is a very well-written, atmospheric and complex thriller, which is a recipe to keep you guessing! My heart was in my mouth at times and I do think that anyone who enjoys this genre of book will lap it up.

Louise Jensen’s writing style is superb. She is an incredibly talented author and I think her real talent lies in the subtlety she often uses.


Thanks so much to Jess at HQ Stories for including me on this Blog Tour.

The Christmas Calendar Girls by Samantha Tonge #BlogTourReview

About the book 

This Christmas fall in love with the town of Chesterwood.

Christmas is meant to be a time of giving, so with Chesterwood food bank under risk of closure Fern knows just what to do to save it.  She’s going to get the town to create a living advent calendar.

Fern, and her best friends, call for help from the local community to bring this calendar to life.  When Kit, the new man in town, offers his assistance Fern’s heart can’t help but skip a beat (or two).

As they grow ever closer, Fern must admit that Kit’s breaking down the barriers she built after the death of her husband.  But his past is holding him back and Fern doesn’t know how to reach him.  No matter how hard she tries.

In this town, Kit’s not the only one with secrets.  Domestic goddess Cara is behaving oddly, burning meals in the oven and clothes whilst ironing, and Davina’s perfect children are causing trouble at school leaving her son, Jasper, desperately unhappy.

Can the Christmas Calendar Girls find a way to bring the community together in time to save the food bank, while still supporting their families and each other?  Can Dern find love again with Kit?

This is a story about kindness and letting go of the past.  It’s about looking out for your neighbours and about making every day feel like Christmas.

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My thoughts

Firstly, let me just say how much I really like this author and her style of storytelling.  I get so excited when I see her name on the front of a very cute book cover.  This cover is no different.  I adore the colours and the whole winter/Christmas vibe.

The main character, Fern, is a pretty special woman.  I took to her instantly and was rooting for her all the way through.  In fact, all of the characters are really fantastic and I could absolutely see myself being friends with most of them.

I’d also like to take this opportunity to say thank you to Samantha for Kit … What’s not to love about Kit? (In my head he’s incredibly HOT!)

This book an uplifting tale of friendship, new beginnings and some really lovely Christmas community spirit.  It’s a lovely, easy read to open up in a cosy room with a hot chocolate in hand.

I think you’ll really enjoy it and walk away with so much more than just a story.

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Thanks so much to Aria Fiction and Netgalley for providing me with a copy of this book for review.  I appreciate it so very much!

Follow Samantha

Twitter: @SamTongeWriter
Facebook: @SamanthaTongeAuthor

You can purchase The Christmas Calendar Girls at the following:

Snowflakes over Holly Cove by Lucy Coleman

Today, with thanks to Aria Fiction, I’ve got a great extract from this book to share with you.  I really hope you love it!

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About the book 

As the snowflakes start to fall, Holly Cove welcomes a new tenant to the beautiful old cottage on the beach…

For lifestyle magazine journalist Tia Armstrong, relationships, as well as Christmas, have lost all their magic. Yet Tia is up against a Christmas deadline for her latest article ‘Love is, actually, all around…’

So, Tia heads to Holly Cove where the restorative sea air and rugged stranger, Nic, slowly but surely start mending her broken heart.

Tia didn’t expect a white Christmas, and she certainly never dared dream that all her Christmas wishes might just come true…

Set in Caswell Bay on the stunningly beautiful Gower Coast, the cottage nestles amid the limestone cliffs and the woodlands, where the emotions run as turbulently as the wind-swept sea.

As cosy as a marshmallow-topped mug of cocoa, fall in love with a heart-warming festive story from the bestselling author of The French Adventure.


I can’t trust myself to utter another word, so I plaster on the widest smile I can muster and grab the folder she thrusts in my direction. Already her attention is elsewhere and she doesn’t even look up as I turn and run.

Clearly, Clarissa has never lost a close loved one. Come to think of it, does Clarissa actually have any close loved ones? All she ever talks about is work, but although she doesn’t wear a wedding ring I suppose that it’s not inconceivable she has a partner. Or is it? It’s hard to think of a sentence in which the words Clarissa and emotion would sit well together. For cool, read icy. For efficient, read microchip processor. It’s an incredible skill, obviously, but there has to be something more, something that touches the soul. The only people she appears to make time for are from the publishing world too, because it’s all about being seen with the right people and making contacts. She does spend quite a lot of time accompanying Oliver Sinclair to drinks parties, but then he is her boss and I suppose she is a little different around him. But whether that’s a softer side creeping in, or the result of her well-practised social skills, who can tell?

I’m being a little unkind and I know it. What did I expect? The world goes on and whether I like it or not I have to earn a salary to pay the bills. Despite the fact that, at the moment, every morning it’s a struggle to drag myself out of bed and face the new day ahead. Life will never be the same again and now, as someone very kindly pointed out to me at the funeral, I’m an orphan. I remember recoiling, wondering how on earth anyone could ever think that was an appropriate thing to mention. The word was like a bullet through my heart, but I had to agree it was true. My father died many years ago, but for some stupidly naive reason, I thought Mum would go on forever.

The one inevitable thing in life is death. And I’ve just been reminded of that. What made it even harder is that I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. She died in her sleep; a heart-attack they said and a peaceful way to go. But even after seeing her coffin disappear behind those curtains, I still can’t take it in. OK, so I’m grieving and it’s pretty obvious I’m having trouble moving on from the denial and isolation phase. Maybe that’s because I’m not sure I can handle the anger phase.

It’s as if I’m living in a bad dream and when I wake up everything will be back to normal. Time to face up to reality, Tia, this is no dream and you have to snap out of it. Your career-hungry peers are snapping at your heels and shadowing Clarissa is a privilege you must never take for granted. That hunger to continue climbing the ladder and be the one sitting in the editor’s chair will return. When it does you need to be prepared to do battle again and fight off your opponents, sorry – colleagues. Allow yourself this one assignment to ease yourself back in and prove you can come out triumphant. Don’t just do a good job, do a brilliant job and make everyone realise you’re more than ready for the next step.

Jeez, am I really giving myself a pep talk here? Or am I scared that none of it means anything to me anymore? That’s nonsense, I tell myself. And Clarissa’s one of the best, so you are lucky to be able to chase the dream. Stop moaning, Tia, it’s not your style and get on with it.

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You can find Snowflakes Over Holly Cove for purchase at the below links:
Google Play

Follow Lucy

Twitter: @LucyColemanAuth  Facebook: @LinnBHaltonAuthor

Follow Aria
Twitter: @aria_fiction
Facebook: @ariafiction
Instagram: @ariafiction



The Last Day of Winter by Shari Low #BlogTourReview

About the book 

One December wedding. One runaway bride. One winter’s day to bring everyone together again.

Today is the day Caro and Cammy are due to walk up the aisle. But Caro’s too caught up in the trauma of her past to contemplate their happy ever after.

Stacey’s decision to return from L.A. is fuelled by one thing – telling Cammy how she feels, before it’s too late.

Wedding planner, Josie, needs to sort the whole mess out, but she’s just been dealt some devastating news. Can she get through the day without spilling her secret?

On a chilly winter’s day, they have twenty-four hours to prove that love can lead the way to a brighter future…

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My thoughts

I’m lucky enough to have read a few books by this author recently, none of which have disappointed.  The Last Day of Winter is no different.

Shari writes writes a very easy-read due to a combination of writing from the heart and seamless storylines.  Her characters are people we all know and a realistic charisma is present at all times.

This book is a story about life and all that comes with it – love, friendship, family and, with that, the inevitable loss and broken hearts.

I laughed as much as I cried and, because of that, I know I won’t forget this in a hurry.

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Thank you Aria Fiction for not only this book, but for introducing me to this author.  Her books have opened up a whole new world for me.

Buy links:
Google Play
Follow Shari

Twitter: @ShariLow
Facebook: @sharilowbooks
Follow Aria

Twitter: @aria_fiction
Facebook: @ariafiction
Instagram: @ariafiction


Let It Snow by Sue Moorcroft #BlogTourReview

About the book

Family means everything to Lily and Zinnia Cortez and, growing up in their non-conventional family unit, they and their two mums couldn’t have been closer.

So it’s a bolt out of the blue when Lily finds her father wasn’t the anonymous one-night stand she’s always believed. She is in fact the result of her mum’s reckless affair with a married man.

Confused, but determined to discover her true roots, Lily sets out to find the family she’s never known – an adventure that takes her from the frosted, thatched cottages of Middledip to the snow-capped mountains of Switzerland, via a Christmas market or two along the way…

My thoughts

I loved this book and not only did I feel super festive while reading it, it also hit me right in the heart. What’s not to love about that?

It’s a really, really well written book with realistic, charming characters.

If you’re after a Christmas romance with a beautiful village setting and the atmosphere to accompany all of that then this is the book for you.

It was particularly lovely to watch the relationship between Lily and Isaac progress from employer-employee to something more. Their connection is gorgeous and it was a joy to watch it unfold.

The descriptions of Switzerland are stunning. I have a friend who visits Switzerland a few times a year and I can understand why, if these descriptions are even halfway to accurate!

It is October 1st and I’m very much starting to feel the Christmas love already thanks, in part, to Let It Snow.

Thanks so much to Avon Books for my copy of this book in return for an honest review.

I really think you’ll love it x

The Day We Meet Again by Miranda Dickinson #BlogTourReview

About the book

‘We’ll meet again at St Pancras station, a year from today. If we’re meant to be together, we’ll both be there. If we’re not, it was never meant to be . . .’

Phoebe and Sam meet by chance at St Pancras station. Heading in opposite directions, both seeking their own adventures, meeting the love of their lives wasn’t part of the plan. So they make a promise: to meet again in the same place in twelve months’ time if they still want to be together.

But is life ever as simple as that?

This is a story of what-ifs and maybes – and how one decision can change your life forever…

My thoughts 

With chapters switching between the viewpoints and feelings of Phoebe and Sam, this book is a really beautiful and engrossing love story.

The idea itself isn’t all that unfamiliar but the journey this book takes us on is brand new to me, which I loved. I had convinced myself it would feel very similar to a couple of other books I had read this summer but I couldn’t have been more wrong. I’m very glad about that!

It’s a quick read with a ‘will they won’t they’ vibe, which accompanies a story about friendship, taking chances in life and gratitude.  It kept me guessing until the end.

What more could you want?

There is some absolutely amazing location imagery too, which was a real bonus and much appreciated by this reader!

Thanks so much to Lily at Harper Collins Publishers for a copy of this book and for including me on this fabulous book tour.

Christmas Every Day by Beth Moran #Extract

christmas every day cover




22 December

It was finally here.  The highlight of the Dougal and Duff calendar.  Everyone would be there, from the lowliest admin assistant to the senior partners.  The oak bannisters were draped with ivy, dotted with twinkling red and white fairy lights.  The doorway leading into the designated party room was framed with pine branches, a cheeky sprig of mistletoe hanging in the centre.  Inside, the room looked even more spectacular than last year.  Hundreds of sparkling snowflakes dangled from the wood-panelled ceiling, more fairy lights and greenery adorned every surface.  The Christmas tree in the centre of the back wall stood festooned with baubles and ribbons.

Waiting staff slipped between the clusters of office cliques with trays of champagne and crumbly canapés, their black uniforms in sharp contrast to the glittering party dresses and tartan finery. A swing quartet thrummed, but it couldn’t beat the buzz of festive gossip.

Rumours had been flying that the newest partner, Richard Abernethy, freshly returned from yet another victory in the Paris office, had been dropping hints about an important announcement.  And when a locally renowned jeweller delivered a ring-shaped box to Reception that morning, every one of the sixty-three employees knew within minutes.

The only question was who.  Nobody had a clue.  That was, except me.  The other PAs assumed I must have some insight to the mystery woman, given that I’d almost unlimited access to his emails and diary.  They spent most of the evening trying to badger me into giving them a name.  Or at least a list of suspects.  I smoothed down my ridiculously expensive dress, patted my hair, took another fake-nonchalant swig of champagne and said nothing.  Not because of loyalty to my boss.  Although that would have been reason enough.

Taut with nerves, heart fluttering, resisting the urge to wash the dryness from my mouth with another drink, I not so surreptitiously watched my secret boyfriend and soon to be fiancé from across the room and wished he’d hurry up and get on with it.

I had always dreaded Christmas.  Particularly these last few years when it had simply been another day alone, opening the same gift card sent  by my dad and watching someone else’s television.  Waiting to hear from Richard, despite him telling me that he’d probably not get a moment to call.

But this year – surely I’d be spending it on his family’s estate in the Highlands?  I had already planned the clothes I would pack, and spent a frantic afternoon searching for the perfect ‘last-minute’ gifts for his parents and younger brother.

For the first time, in so long that it made my heart ache just thinking about it, I would be spending Christmas with a loving, happy family.

I took a deep breath, smothered my smile and, for the millionth time that day, silently practised my surprised, thrilled and senior-partner’s wife worthy ‘yes’.

Chapter One

When the house had been described as like something out of a fairy tale, I’d been picturing Snow White’s cottage, or a quaint gingerbread house (minus the evil witch, whom I’d left behind in Edinburgh), not a shrunken, grottier version of Sleeping Beauty’s derelict outhouse. And, in my storybook, there hadn’t been an old pram, two sagging armchairs and a turquoise toilet blocking the driveway.

I peered through the taxi window, trying to kid myself it would look better once I was out of the car. Or it had stopped raining. Or if I took my glasses off. The driver pulled up in front of a rusted mangle.

‘Could you get any closer to the door?’ I asked, tugging the zip a bit higher on my jacket.

He swivelled his head to look at me, one eyebrow raised. ‘What about parking on the lawn?’

‘That ain’t a lawn. It’s a jungle. I ain’t risking my tyres on that.’

I blew out a sigh, and unbuckled the seat belt.

‘Fifty pound. What?’ My hand froze halfway to my purse. ‘We agreed thirty.’

‘That was before the ford, the mud pit and the overgrown branches scratching my paintwork. The car needs a full-on valet and the extra won’t even cover it. I’ve got standards to uphold.’

I cast my eyes around the faded upholstery, scuffed trimmings and air freshener designed as a topless woman.

‘You knew the address was on an unnamed road in the middle of a forest and you still said thirty.’ I tried to keep the tremble out of my voice. The extra twenty pounds mightnot pay for a car valet but it would help me not starve for the next couple of weeks.

‘I’m the only taxi-driver round ‘ere who’ll come out this far.’ He grinned. The big bad wolf. ‘I’m the only taxi full stop. If you want out of ‘ere any time soon, best stay in my good books.’ He tipped his head towards the house. ‘And, trust me, you won’t be wanting to ‘ang around.

‘Are you threatening me?’ I did my best to channel some of the experience I’d gained working for sharks who’d sell your own baby back to you, and straightened my shoulders.

After enduring a lifetime of being treated like a worthless wimp, this was supposed to be a fresh start. The new, improved, over-it, Jenny.

I opened my purse, and deliberately placed three notes on the plastic ledge between the front and back seats. ‘I’m giving you the thirty pounds you asked for, and not a penny more.’ He curled up one side of his lip, leant towards me and growled. ‘Are you sure about that?’ Letting out a squeak, I unclasped my purse again. ‘And a tip! Of course. Here. I’ll make it twenty.’ Yanking open the door, I tumbled out into the freezing January rain, slipping and sliding round to the car boot. Hauling out my suitcase, followed by a rucksack, I stumbled out of the way just in time to avoid injury, but not a generous splattering of filthy spray from the revving wheels.

Wiping a smear of mud off my glasses with a sodden sleeve, I stared at my new home.

A semi-detached old woodsman’s cottage; the grey plaster frontage streaked with grime, slumped chimney and patchy roof confirmed it hadn’t worn the years well.

I squelched through the puddles, rucksack on my back, hand-me-down Mulberry suitcase dragging behind, and peered in through the ivy-smothered front window. Rummaging in my jacket pocket for the key, I gave up attempting to make out shapes in the gloom beyond.

‘Right. Might as well get it over with. Get out of this rain and put the kettle on.’ I wiped the worst of the dirt from the keyhole, congratulating myself for having had the foresight to have the utilities reconnected before I arrived, and forced the key in, slowly wiggling it until it unlocked.

I pushed against the door. Nothing. Not even a rattle.

Christmas Every Day Blog Tour

Thanks so much to Boldwood Books for including me in this fabulous blog tour for Christmas Every Day by Beth Moran.  I’m very happy to be bringing you all this exciting extract to close out the tour.

I hope you all enjoy Christmas Every Day as much as I did x

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Postscript by Cecelia Ahern

About the book 

When Holly Kennedy is approached by a group calling themselves the PS, I Love You Club, her safe existence is turned on its head. Inspired by hearing about her late husband Gerry’s letters, the club wants Holly to help them with their own parting messages for their loved ones to discover after they’re gone.

Holly is sure of one thing – no way is she being dragged back to the grief she has left behind. It’s taken seven years to reinvent herself, and she’s ready to move on with her life.

But Holly comes to realize that when you love someone, there’s always one more thing to say…

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It’s Postscript day – at last! Excitement around this new book has been building ever since we all heard it was definitely happening.  I feel like I’ve been waiting for this sequel forever.

I read PS I Love You in one sitting and this was no different.  It was a late night/early morning situation!  Holly is still a remarkable woman but to see how she’s grown over the period of time since we’ve last met her was really special.

It’s a beautiful, emotional and very moving novel.  Cecelia’s love for her characters is as obvious as ever.

Why not come along to Stella Rathmines on Saturday morning to celebrate publication of Postscript with Cecelia Ahern and Image Magazine?  You can book your ticket here.  It’s set to be a pretty special morning.


I really hope you enjoy Postscript as much as I did.  Let me know – I’ve been dying to chat about it for weeks now!




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