Showing posts with label UK Related. Show all posts
Showing posts with label UK Related. Show all posts

24 June 2021

[Blog Tour] 'Queen of Blood' (The Cross and the Crown, Book 4) By Sarah Kennedy #HistoricalFiction

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[Blog Tour] 'Queen of Blood'  (The Cross and the Crown, Book 4)  By Sarah Kennedy #HistoricalFiction
Queen of Blood - Blog Tour Banner

The Book: 

Queen of Blood
(The Cross and the Crown, Book 4)
By Sarah Kennedy

  • Publication Date: 26th March 2021
  • Publisher: Penmore Press
  • Page Length: 321 Pages
  • Genre: Historical Fiction

The Blurb:

Queen of Blood, Book Four of the Cross and the Crown series, continues the story of Catherine Havens, a former nun in Tudor England. It is now 1553, and Mary Tudor has just been crowned queen of England. Still a Roman Catholic, Mary seeks to return England to its former religion, and Catherine hopes that the country will be at peace under the daughter of Henry VIII. But rebellion is brewing around Thomas Wyatt, the son of a Tudor courtier, and when Catherine’s estranged son suddenly returns from Wittenberg amid circulating rumours about overthrowing the new monarch, Catherine finds herself having to choose between the queen she has always loved and the son who seems determined to join the Protestants who seek to usurp her throne.
'Queen of Blood' - Front Cover

'Queen of Blood' - Excerpt:

At dinner, Benjamin studied the young men who occupied one side of the long table. The four newcomers, guided by Robbie, helped themselves to the roast lamb and bread without assistance, and they finished off five bottles of French wine among them. They had been introduced simply as Tom, John, Edward, and Peter, and they laid into the custard with a vengeance, not waiting until the dirty plates had been taken away. Diana had taken a low seat, across from the newcomers and away from the others, and Veronica appraised the strangers more than she ate. Alice kicked at Catherine under the table until her shin could withstand no more abuse and she squeezed the girl’s knee. Old Moll peeked around the corner of the doorway once, and backed away.
“Have you brought your books home with you, Robbie?” Catherine finally asked.

“Books will be burned in England,” her son said. “And I am called Robert now.”

“Who has said anything of burning books?” said Catherine.

“Books. Men. It will be all the same. I have brought my necessities and no more.”

Benjamin said, “And what is necessary for a young man these days?”

The two at the end exchanged a sideways glance and dug into their sweets. Robert said, “Men will need their consciences more than anything else now.”

“Yours must be very heavy,” said Benjamin. He rose and turned his back to tend to the fire.

Robert spoke to his mother. “The reformed priests will be forced to divorce their wives. The lands will be seized for the Pope. Some of those lands are mine.”

Catherine coughed into her hand. She scanned the four feeders. “The lands are held in my name, Robbie. Robert. Until my death. The properties that will be yours were Overton land, never the Church’s. They’re safe enough.”

“The church lands will be mine, will they not, Mother?” added Veronica. She cast her brother a glare. “If anyone must worry, Brother, I am the one, not you.”

“Anyone who is the child of a priest should worry,” said Robert. “Anything owned by a person who holds old Church property will come under the scrutiny of this new court. That may mean my land.”

“You’re chasing ghosts, boy,” said Benjamin, sitting again. “England is ruled by law, and even the queen must follow it. Is this what you came back for? To raise a rabble like the drunks in the public houses?”

Again the furtive meetings of eyes.

“I’m not worried,” said Veronica. “The queen has always been a great friend to me. And the queen’s sister, as well.”

“The queen’s sister?” said one of the four. “She will need friends. She has had too few.”

“What do you mean by that?” demanded Benjamin. He leaned onto the table, and the daughters all leaned back.

“He means that the Lady Elizabeth is reformed and the new queen is not,” said Robert. “She has been ill-treated by this Roman Mary and someone must defend her rights.” He pushed himself away and stood. “This is no time for wrangling and debate. We are weary and will retire.” The others all shoveled in last bites and wiped their faces. They bowed stiffly at Catherine and crowded out.

“What a pack of hounds he’s gathered,” said Benjamin. “And what a large set of cases they carry about with them, for men who need nothing more than their consciences.”

“They’re young, and young men are often angry,” said Catherine. “They want the world to turn on them.”

“It will turn on them, in truth, if they don’t mind their mouths,” said Benjamin. “And if they are so angry, what are they doing here? Why didn’t they stay in Wittenberg, where they have allies?”

Catherine said, “He didn’t say that they came from Wittenberg. Did you not hear them speak? I think these friends of his are all Englishmen.”
[Blog Tour] 'Queen of Blood'  (The Cross and the Crown, Book 4)  By Sarah Kennedy #HistoricalFiction
Sarah Kennedy

Author Bio:

Sarah Kennedy is the author of the Tudor historical series, The Cross and the Crown, including The Altarpiece, City of Ladies, The King’s Sisters, and Queen of Blood. She has also published a stand-alone contemporary novel, Self-Portrait, with Ghost, as well as seven books of poems. A professor of English at Mary Baldwin University in Staunton, Virginia, Sarah Kennedy holds a PhD in Renaissance Literature and an MFA in Creative Writing. She has received grants from both the National Endowment for the Arts, the National Endowment for the Humanities, and the Virginia Commission for the Arts.

Connect with Sarah Kennedy:

[Blog Tour] 'Queen of Blood'  (The Cross and the Crown, Book 4)  By Sarah Kennedy #HistoricalFiction
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9 June 2021

[Blog Tour] 'Sisters at War' By Clare Flynn #HistoricalFiction #WW2

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[Blog Tour] 'Sisters at War' By Clare Flynn #HistoricalFiction #WW2
Sisters at War - Tour Banner

The Book:

Sisters at War
By Clare Flynn
  • Publication Date: 1st May 2021
  • Publisher: Cranbrook Press
  • Page Length: 314 Pages
  • Genre: Historical Fiction

The Blurb:

1940 Liverpool. The pressures of war threaten to tear apart two sisters traumatised by their father’s murder of their mother.

With her new husband, Will, a merchant seaman, deployed on dangerous Atlantic convoy missions, Hannah needs her younger sister Judith more than ever. But when Mussolini declares war on Britain, Judith's Italian sweetheart, Paolo is imprisoned as an enemy alien, and Judith's loyalties are divided.

Each sister wants only to be with the man she loves but, as the war progresses, tensions between them boil over, and they face an impossible decision.

A heart-wrenching page-turner about the everyday bravery of ordinary people during wartime. From heavily blitzed Liverpool to the terrors of the North Atlantic and the scorched plains of Australia, Sisters at War will bring tears to your eyes and joy to your heart.
[Blog Tour] 'Sisters at War' By Clare Flynn #HistoricalFiction #WW2
Sisters at War - Front Cover 

'Sisters at War' - Excerpt:

At some point his luck was going to run out. As a merchant seaman, Will Kidd was only too aware of the heavy losses sustained by merchant ships and yet, so far, he had come through the first months of the war with barely a sight of a German vessel. On the way south through the Bay of Biscay, towards Gibraltar, just two weeks ago, they had spotted the periscope of a submarine, only to find on closer inspection that it was a piece of driftwood. They had also identified a German warship off the south coast of Ireland but either it was running low on fuel and heading for home, unwilling for an encounter with a convoy, or somehow it failed to spot them. Either way, it sailed on without engaging. Such good fortune could not last forever.

This morning, Will was keeping watch as they headed back to England. The Christina was straggling along, heavily laden with cargo. Being low in the water, they’d been unable to sustain the eight knots the rest of the convoy were keeping to, and Captain Palmer had requested permission for them to continue alone. They were following a course as far from the Spanish and Portuguese coast as possible, as the risk of being sighted was less the further out to sea they were.

Will scanned the dark water around him with a practised eye, all too aware that somewhere out there, danger was lurking. The stretches closer to home were always the most perilous.

The Christina was an ageing tramp steamer. Will knew the ship like the back of his hand, having served on her between African ports before the war. The vessel was slow, cumbersome and would have been all too easily picked off trailing at the rear of the convoy. Better to take their chances alone, rather than slow the other ships down. But the problem of leaving the shelter of the convoy was that they only had a four-inch, low-angle gun, a relic from the last war. If a torpedo struck, they could be heading to the bottom of the sea before they had a chance to fire a shot back.

Night was falling. Will was near the end of his watch and looking forward to a few hours’ sleep. At first, he thought he saw a pod of dolphins, then realised it was moving much too fast – a line of bubbles crossing the bows from starboard to port. Grabbing the voice pipe, he sounded the alarm whistle and within moments Captain Palmer was beside him on the bridge.

‘Bring her about!’ Palmer ordered and the helmsman swung the ship through ninety degrees. The captain ordered them to increase speed but, even at full throttle, the Christina was too slow for a U-boat, even a submerged one whose speed would be constrained by battery power.

As the captain reached for the steam whistle to alert the rest of his sleeping crew, Will saw the unmistakable phosphorescent trail of a torpedo as it narrowly missed the Christina’s bow, closely followed by another.

‘Send an SSS with our coordinates,’ the captain instructed the radio operator.

The first officer appeared on the bridge. ‘Torpedo near miss off the stern.’

‘Turn her again. To port, hard about ninety degrees.’

The Christina turned again so that the stern of the ship faced the attacker. Will was astonished. Three torpedoes and none of them on target. He could barely believe their luck. It couldn’t hold out.

‘Full steam ahead.’ The captain was holding them on a steady course, hoping to put some distance between them before the U-boat fired another torpedo.

Will was the first to see the sub as it surfaced on the port side. He sent out an alarm as shells began raining down.

The radio officer was frantically sending out signals that they were under submarine attack; the Germans were targetting the ship’s aerial masts. The only gun, better suited to anti-aircraft defence, was little use at the angle required to fire at a surfaced submarine.

Palmer continued to steer the Christina on a random zigzag path, to make aiming as difficult as possible for the German vessel, aided by the cover of darkness.

But the shelling had only just begun. The Christina shook and groaned under the onslaught of fire from close range. Shells exploded everywhere across the decks.

Will looked at Captain Palmer, awaiting instructions.

‘Bastards.’ Palmer’s voice was grim. He grabbed the megaphone and gave the order.

‘Abandon ship.’

The booming of exploding torpedoes continued. Water rushed down the companion ways. Steam shot up as a boiler exploded. Torchlights cut through the blackness of the night.

Everything was happening so fast. Will staggered along the deck to supervise the lowering of the port lifeboat, under the constant bombardment from shellfire.

Looking back, he saw the captain flinging the confidential books overboard, consigning them to the depths, safe from German hands.

As the bosun climbed into the port lifeboat to ready it for lowering, a shell exploded on the deck beside them. Will watched in horror. The explosion killed the first officer instantly and sent the bosun and the lifeboat plunging headlong into the roiling sea. Blinding lights, confusion, noise, pitching back and forth. Will looked over the side but there was no sign of the bosun. Just a mess of shattered timber floating on the black void of the sea.

The Germans must have known that they were abandoning ship, yet the U-boat had fired regardless. Will and the rest of the crew followed Captain Palmer over to the other side where they managed to lower the starboard lifeboat and clamber on board, fumbling in the dark, lit only by torchlight. The waves crashed against the Christina and buffeted the lifeboat as it went into the water.

The boat moved away from the ship and the men watched as the German U-boat continued to hammer shells into the now-blazing hull of the Christina. It was sport – like throwing balls at a fairground coconut shy. Shattering. Blasting. On and on, remorselessly.

The pounding of the old girl was painful to the whole crew. A slow noisy torture. They sat huddled in the lifeboat surrounded by the cold sea, watching transfixed.

It took a full hour before the Christina gave a few earsplitting creaks, roaring like an animal in the jaws of a lion, before she finally succumbed and slipped beneath the waves. No one spoke. But there was a collective sigh as the vessel that had been their home disappeared.

The silence was broken by Captain Palmer reciting the Lord’s Prayer. Thinking of their two lost comrades, the men joined in or bowed their heads respectfully, regardless of their religious beliefs.

Its brutal task complete, the U-boat slid away into the darkness. The destruction of the Christina had been performed with complete disregard for human life or the terms of the Geneva Conventions. The men, drenched with salt water, shivering from cold and shock, began to sing to keep their spirits up, before hoisting sail.

Will exchanged looks with Captain Palmer. They were the longest-serving on the Christina. Will could imagine what Palmer must be going through having lost his ship as well as one of his three officers and a valued crew member. Whilst not the fastest or most elegant of vessels, the Christina had been home to them for a long time and both men had many memories.

The lifeboat limped along, through mercifully calmer seas, in what the compass indicated was towards the north-west coast of Spain. Will sent up a silent prayer of thanks that his life had been spared in his first encounter with the enemy. He would be seeing Hannah again soon.
[Blog Tour] 'Sisters at War' By Clare Flynn #HistoricalFiction #WW2
Clare Flynn

Author Bio:

Clare Flynn is the author of thirteen historical novels and a collection of short stories. A former International Marketing Director and strategic management consultant, she is now a full-time writer.

Having lived and worked in London, Paris, Brussels, Milan and Sydney, home is now on the coast, in Sussex, England, where she can watch the sea from her windows. An avid traveler, her books are often set in exotic locations.

Clare is a Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts, a member of The Society of Authors, ALLi, and the Romantic Novelists Association. When not writing, she loves to read, quilt, paint and play the piano.

Connect with Clare Flynn:

Website ✔ Twitter ✔ Facebook ✔:Amazon Author Page ✔:Goodreads ✔

[Blog Tour] 'Sisters at War' By Clare Flynn #HistoricalFiction #WW2
Sisters at War - Tour Schedule

1 June 2021

[Blog Tour] 'The Usurper King' (The Plantagenet Legacy, Book 3) By Mercedes Rochelle #HistoricalFiction

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[Blog Tour] 'The Usurper King'  (The Plantagenet Legacy, Book 3)  By Mercedes Rochelle #HistoricalFiction
'The Usurper King' - Tour Banner

The Book:

The Usurper King
(The Plantagenet Legacy, Book 3)
By Mercedes Rochelle
  • Publisher: Sergeant Press
  • Page Length: 308 Pages
  • Genre: Historical Fiction

The Blurb:

From Outlaw to Usurper, Henry Bolingbroke fought one rebellion after another.

First, he led his own uprising. Gathering support the day he returned from exile, Henry marched across the country and vanquished the forsaken Richard II. Little did he realize that his problems were only just beginning. How does a usurper prove his legitimacy? What to do with the deposed king? Only three months after he took the crown, Henry IV had to face a rebellion led by Richard's disgruntled favorites. Worse yet, he was harassed by rumors of Richard's return to claim the throne. His own supporters were turning against him. How to control the overweening Percies, who were already demanding more than he could give? What to do with the rebellious Welsh? After only three years, the horrific Battle of Shrewsbury nearly cost him the throne—and his life. It didn't take long for Henry to discover that that having the kingship was much less rewarding than striving for it.
[Blog Tour] 'The Usurper King'  (The Plantagenet Legacy, Book 3)  By Mercedes Rochelle #HistoricalFiction
'The Usurper King' - Front Cover

'The Usurper King' - Excerpt:

The Duke of York confronts Henry Bolingbroke:

York was waiting for them at the Church of St. Mary's. It was an old edifice hosting many generations of the Berkeley family within its humble vaulted nave. Accompanied by his nobles, Henry pushed open the door and slowly entered, looking over the silent effigies lining both sides of the church. The Duke of York stood before the altar, waiting in the gloom. At his side hovered John Beaufort and a handful of knights like so many ghosts.

Henry could just imagine that the king's regent wanted nothing more than to sit down; he knew his uncle suffered from severe arthritis, and this audience was undoubtedly a strain for him. The newcomers moved closer. York's face, usually so affable, was drawn and frowning. Despite himself, Henry felt a pang of guilt.

Putting his hands on his hips, the duke stuck out his chin. "You have much to answer for, Henry Bolingbroke. How dare you drag your horde of bandits across England, pillaging the good people who have done nothing to deserve this outrage?"

Henry extended his hands. "Uncle, uncle. Give me a chance to explain."

"Don't uncle me! You have been forbidden to return these six years, and here you are, just as soon as the king conveniently leaves the country. Surely you must know I speak for him."

"I do, your grace. And I trust your good judgment."

"My good judgment!" York sputtered. "My good judgment! I judge that you are outlawed."

Despite York's words, Henry felt his uncle spoke out of obligation rather than conviction. He took a step forward. "It was Bolingbroke who was outlawed. I speak for Lancaster."

Temporarily at a loss, Edmund opened and closed his mouth. The trembling of his thin white beard betrayed his inner conflict. Henry took advantage of his discomfiture.

"Uncle, listen to me. My poor father, whom I was not allowed to see even at the last, would have trusted you to look after my entitlements—just as he would have looked after your son's claims had they been challenged. I ask no less of you. You know I have been wronged..." He paused, waiting for an answer. None was forthcoming.

Percy stepped up next to Henry. "This issue touches all of us," he said in his gruff voice. "We stand united behind Lancaster. If such a great inheritance can be thus taken away, then none of us are safe."

Unresolved, York lowered his head.

"And what have I done to deserve this treatment?" Henry pleaded. "What treason have I committed? I only ask to be given what I was promised: the ability to sue for my inheritance. I have come to claim my own." He dropped to one knee. "I am prepared to swear to this, before the altar."

Throwing up his hands, Edmund turned toward the sepulcher. "Then do so, nephew." He crossed his arms, waiting.

Exchanging glances with Percy, Henry moved forward, kneeling under the great crucifix. "I swear, as God is my witness, I have come to claim my inheritance. That is all." He crossed himself.

"Hmm." York was unconvinced. "Why do you need such a large army to merely claim your inheritance?"

Considering his oath discharged, Henry stood. "I am well aware that if I fell into the king's hands, my life would be forfeit."

"So you will confront the king as well?"

"If I must, uncle. I believe he seeks to enrich himself with Lancaster's patrimony. Many would call King Richard a tyrant. Many feel he needs the guidance of wiser heads."

"Like yours, I suppose?" York's voice sounded shrill.

"And yours, uncle. We have had ruling councils before."

Snorting in disgust, Edmund turned his back on Henry.

"Surely you have heard the cries of the people," Bolingbroke pleaded. "The king is not satisfied with one pardon. He requires many. He demands surety from every side. No one knows whether he is safe from arrest. No one knows whether their possessions will fall prey to the king's cupidity. As Lord High Steward of England, I have sworn to right these wrongs." He paused; whether he should be acting High Steward was anyone's guess. So far, no one debated his right to it—even York, it seemed.

Turning again, Edmund balanced on legs spread wide. "You have sworn to right these wrongs? By deposing the king?"

"That is not my intent." Henry gestured to the others. "Ask them. They would not follow a usurper."

Setting his mouth, York glared at Henry's companions. They stared back at him, not giving an inch. The silence stretched uncomfortably.

Finally, Edmund gave in, shaking his head. "All right. So be it. I no longer have the means to oppose you." Pausing, he raised a finger threateningly. "But do not assume I give you a free hand in this. You are bound by your word."

Allowing himself a smile, Henry put on his gloves. "I hope to convince you we mean to do the best for England's sake."

Grunting again, Edmund sat heavily on the nearest pew. It was the dismissal Henry was waiting for. He knew that in time, he would be able to cozen his uncle. For the moment, however, it would probably be better to let him get used to his failure as regent. It wasn't York's fault. He had done the best he could, considering that the king had left him with very few resources. Luckily for Henry. Luckily for Lancaster. So far, things had gone amazingly well. Henry almost couldn't believe it.

[Blog Tour] 'The Usurper King'  (The Plantagenet Legacy, Book 3)  By Mercedes Rochelle #HistoricalFiction
Mercedes Rochelle

Author Bio:

Mercedes Rochelle is an ardent lover of medieval history, and has channeled this interest into fiction writing. Her first four books cover eleventh-century Britain and events surrounding the Norman Conquest of England. The next series is called The Plantagenet Legacy about the struggles and abdication of Richard II, leading to the troubled reigns of the Lancastrian Kings. She also writes a blog: HistoricalBritainBlog.com to explore the history behind the story. Born in St. Louis, MO, she received by BA in Literature at the Univ. of Missouri St.Louis in 1979 then moved to New York in 1982 while in her mid-20s to “see the world”. The search hasn’t ended! Today she lives in Sergeantsville, NJ with her husband in a log home they had built themselves

Connect with Mercedes Rochelle:

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15 May 2021

'Asleep In The Back' Collection From elbow Premieres May 7 on Digital Services For 20th Anniversary

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To celebrate the 20th anniversary of their 2001 debut album, 'Asleep In The Back,' elbow have announced the release to streaming services today of a collection of rare tracks.
To celebrate the 20th anniversary of their 2001 debut album, Asleep In The Back, elbow have announced the release to streaming services today of a collection of rare tracks, available here..
Alongside the original studio album and a number of B-sides, the collection includes tracks taken from their debut Noisebox EP, featuring the original recording of "Powder Blue," and their two releases for Manchester independent Uglyman Records, the Newborn EP and the Any Day Now EP. 

  • Fans will also be able to hear six tracks from the band's headline show at London Astoria on October 24, during the album tour; three tracks recorded for Steve Lamacq's Evening Session on Radio One, transmitted in April 2001; and remixes of album tracks, including fellow Mancunian Andy Votel's take on "Powder Blue."
Upon its initial release, Asleep In The Back announced elbow as one of the brightest hopes for UK music as shown by their nomination in the 2001 BRIT Awards for Best New British Band. The album was nominated for the 2001 Mercury Prize, narrowly missing out to PJ Harvey, and secured the first of the band's 9/10 album reviews from NME, which said of it: "Radiohead finally have a competitor worthy of healthy comparison." The same title would describe lead track, "Newborn," as "A single of such magnificent flight and depth it darkens the skies above most other British guitar groups."
elbow would go on to make history as the only UK group to ever secure four consecutive 9/10 album reviews from the magazine.
Asleep In The Back
won fans across the board, with The Guardian praising singer Guy Garvey as "a master of the arresting image," in the first of many tributes to his lyrical prowess, and The Daily Telegraph heralding "a wondrous and ambitious album." 

Following its release, elbow would go on to become a constant presence in the UK album charts, a mainstay "must watch" at UK festivals and, ultimately, achieve multi-platinum status, UK Number One albums, BRIT Awards, Mercury Prize and Ivor Novello wins and universal acclaim.
Twenty years later, Asleep In The Back, and the recordings made around its release, re-emphasize that bond at the core of the group and serve as reminders of the beginnings of an incredible journey. Now available on digital streaming services is an audio guide to the starting point of one of the most unique and compelling stories in modern British music history
elbow 2019 (Photo: Peter Neill via elbow website)
elbow are currently in the studio working on tracks for their ninth studio album.

The full tracklisting for the 20th anniversary edition of Asleep In The Back on streaming services:

Asleep In The Back

1. Any Day Now
2. Red
3. Little Beast
4. Powder Blue
5. Bitten By The Tailfly
6. Asleep In The Back
7. Newborn
8. Don't Mix Your Drinks
9. Presuming Ed (Rest Easy)
10. Coming Second
11. Can't Stop
12. Scattered Black And Whites

Asleep In The Back EPs and B Sides

1. Powder Blue (The Noisebox EP Version)
2. Red (The Noisebox EP Version)
3. Theme From Munroe Kelly (The Noisebox EP Version)
4. Can't Stop (The Noisebox EP Version)
5. Kisses (The Newborn EP Version)
6. none one (The Newborn EP Version)
7. Wurzel (The Any Day Now EP Version)
8. George Lassoes The Moon (The Any Day Now EP Version)
9. Vum Garda
10. About Time
11. Suffer
12. Lucky With Disease
13. One Thing That Was Bothering Me
14. Stumble
15. Puckfair

Asleep In The Back Sessions, Remixes and Acoustic Tracks

1. Newborn – BBC Radio 1 Lamacq Session
2. Don't Mix Your Drinks - BBC Radio 1 Lamacq Session
3. Red - BBC Radio 1 Lamacq Session
4. Powder Blue (Andy Votel Mix)
5. Press Your Lips (Newborn) (El Presidente Remix)
6. Coming Second (Fink Remix)
7. Coming Second (Misery:Lab Remix)
8. Newborn Bitten By The Black Dog
9. About Time (Acoustic Version)
10. The Crow (Acoustic Version)
11. Newborn (Acoustic Version)

Asleep In The Back Live At The Astoria 24th October 2001

1. Bitten By The Tailfly – Live At The Astoria
2. Coming Second – Live At The Astoria
3. Don't Mix Your Drinks – Live At The Astoria
4. Can't Stop – Live At The Astoria
5. Scattered Black And Whites – Live At The Astoria
6. George Lassoes The Moon – Live At The Astoria


SOURCE: Polydor/UMe

7 May 2021

[Blog Tour] 'The Queen's Rival' By Anne O'Brien #HistoricalFiction #Medieval

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[Blog Tour] 'The Queen's Rival' By Anne O'Brien #HistoricalFiction #Medieval
 'The Queen's Rival' - Tour Banner

The Book:

The Queen's Rival
By Anne O'Brien
  • Publication Date: 15th April 2021(paperback) September 2020 (Hardback and ebook)
  • Publisher: HarperCollins
  • Page Length: 531 pages
  • Genre: Historical Fiction

The Blurb:

England, 1459.

One family united by blood. Torn apart by war…

The Wars of the Roses storm through the country, and Cecily Neville, Duchess of York, plots to topple the weak-minded King Henry VI from the throne.

But when the Yorkists are defeated at the battle of Ludford Bridge, Cecily’s family flee and abandon her to face a marauding Lancastrian army on her own.

Stripped of her lands and imprisoned in Tonbridge Castle, the Duchess begins to spin a web of deceit. One that will eventually lead to treason, to the fall of King Henry VI, and to her eldest son being crowned King Edward IV.

Buy Links: 

Amazon UK ✔ Amazon US ✔ Amazon CA   Amazon AU  
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'The Queen's Rival' - Front Cover

'The Queen's Rival' - Excerpt:

Duchess Cecily takes the King to task in Reading Abbey, September 1464

Edward, King of England, stood before me.

‘Where is she?’

‘Who?’

‘Do not be obtuse, Edward.’

I could not address him as Ned. There was no maternal affection within me.

His eyes widened with just the hint of the temper that he rarely showed to me.

‘You refer to my wife, Madam.’

A little silence fell, broken only by a squawk from the popinjay that had been consigned to the corner of the room. I ignored the wine poured and presented to me. Rejected the delicacy of fried fig pastries he had ordered to sweeten my mood. There would be no sweetening here.

‘What have you done, Edward? What in God’s name have you done?’

Replacing the cup on the salver, my son stood foursquare before me. He had known that he would have to face this conversation with me. They said that he was charismatic in his treatment of women. There was no doubting it. His smile could have melted winter ice.

‘I have entered into a marriage. Was that not what you had been commanding me to do since the day that I became King?’

The truth of this stirred my anger to a new level of heat.

‘I am finding it difficult to choose my words. You have married a commoner, a woman of no connection, a woman already wed, with a family of her own, and so defiled. A Queen of England should be a spotless virgin, not a widow. I can barely believe the truth of it, that you should have embarked on so misguided a policy.’

‘I regret that you are so dismissive of my choice of wife.’ How smooth he was. How adult. I remembered that he was now two and twenty years old. ‘Not one word to wish us happy. I might have hoped for more.’

At least his smile had waned.

‘Happy is not a concept for a King when entering into matrimony,’ I replied. ‘Did you not think? Did you not stop and consider before you committed the deed? As King of England you had your choice of European women of high birth. Bona of Savoy would have been the perfect match. Your children would be magnificently connected to the best blood of England and France. Here was a chance to tie France into an alliance which would defeat the Lancastrians for ever. Since, without a reply, Edward picked up his own cup and drank, I continued.

‘Instead you have chosen a woman who will give you no advantage, and in so doing you have antagonised Warwick, humiliated King Louis, horrified your Council. And if that were not enough you have angered the bedrock of your Yorkist followers whose blood has been spilt in our cause on the battlefield. They think that you have betrayed them by this marriage. Surely I and your father raised you to see the value of making and keeping friends in political circles. You have destroyed so much goodwill. It will serve you badly if King Louis, feeling thwarted by your inexplicable volte-face, promptly gives his support to Queen Marguerite and furnishes her with French troops to win the throne back for her son. We could have a French army landing on our shores within months, and it will be entirely your own fault.’

Which at last prompted my son into some level of response.

‘You take no account of the reason why I asked that she would wed me. It is very clear to anyone who knows me well, and who knows the lady. I fell in love. I wed her because I did not wish to live without her.’

His features were alight with it. I would not be persuaded.

‘Love! It is an embarrassment.’

And there again was the flash of temper in his eyes as they held mine without any sense of regret.

‘I love her! Did I not appreciate the problems surrounding this marriage? I am neither ignorant or naive, but the moment I set eyes on Mistress Grey, my heart was hers, as hers was mine. I wed her because I wished to spend my life with her. I know that she will be an unimpeachable Queen.’

His confidence was disquieting. 'You say that you are not naive. This marriage was the opportunity to make that one single irrevocable alliance with a European power through the hand of a foreign Princess. Instead you have thrown it away on a family of little renown. Rivers, a man of meagre nobility. Jacquetta, it is true, the daughter of some distant branch of the family of Luxembourg, but it does not make amends for Woodville’s less than glorious birth.’

‘I care not.’

‘You should care. A King, particularly a new King with a kingdom to take in hand, should wed a virgin, a woman of pure reputation. It is not acceptable for you to wed a widow.’

My son’s face was wiped clean of any expression, but he was not lost for words.

‘It’s always an education to hear your views of my character, Madam.’ Edward, opening the door for me to depart, bowed with a perfect degree of respect, denied by his closing words.

‘I hope you will change your mind. In the interest of harmony in my household. If you will not, then I fear that you will be the loser.’

Before the door closed behind me, all I heard was the popinjay’s shriek, startled by some reaction from within the room. Edward laughed. The popinjay had more effect on him than I.

All was clear, like iron nails hammered into a coffin. Elizabeth Woodville would be Queen of England. I had been supplanted by a woman for whom I had no respect.

At some point I would have to meet her.

What a game that would be to play out. Queen versus King’s Mother.
Anne O'Brien

Author Bio:

Sunday Times Bestselling author Anne O’Brien was born in West Yorkshire. After gaining a BA Honours degree in History at Manchester University and a Master’s in Education at Hull, she lived in East Yorkshire for many years as a teacher of history.

Today she has sold over 700,000 copies of her books medieval history novels in the UK and internationally. She lives with her husband in an eighteenth-century timber-framed cottage in the depths of the Welsh Marches in Herefordshire. The area provides endless inspiration for her novels which breathe life into the forgotten women of medieval history.

Connect with Anne O’Brien:

Website ✔ Twitter  Facebook  LinkedIn  Pinterest  

[Blog Tour] 'The Queen's Rival' By Anne O'Brien #HistoricalFiction #Medieval
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26 April 2021

[Blog Tour] 'Pied Piper' By Keith Stuart #HistoricalFiction #WW2

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[Blog Tour] 'Pied Piper' By Keith Stuart #HistoricalFiction #WW2
'Pied Piper' - Tour Banner

The Book:

Pied Piper
By Keith Stuart
  • Publication Date: 1st March 2021
  • Publisher: LMP- Len Maynard Publishing
  • Page Length: 176 Pages
  • Genre: Historical Fiction / WWII

The Blurb:

In September 1939 the British Government launched Operation Pied Piper. To protect them from the perils of German bombing raids, in three days millions of city children were evacuated - separated from their parents.

This story tells of two families: one whose children leave London and the other which takes them in. We share the ups and downs of their lives, their dramas and tragedies, their stoicism and their optimism. But. unlike many other stories and images about this time, this one unfolds mainly through the eyes of Tom, the father whose children set off, to who knew where, with just a small case and gas mask to see them on their way
Buy Links: Amazon UK ✔ Amazon US ✔ Amazon CA ✔ Amazon AU
  • This novel is free to read with #KindleUnlimited subscription.
[Blog Tour] 'Pied Piper' By Keith Stuart #HistoricalFiction #WW2
'Pied Piper' - Front Cover

'Pied Piper' - Excerpt:

The next few minutes’ thoughts were drowned by the clatter of pots and cutlery and plates but there was an unusual absence of chatter. Alice and Micky always had something to say, correcting and contradicting each other about things they had been doing together and interrupting each other as they shared what they had done alone, each certain the other was being given too much time to tell. But that night they were subdued, quiet.

“Right, you two, hands washed quickly,” and I whisked Micky off his feet towards the sink, trying my darnedest to tickle his ribs and illicit a giggle. Instead, he twisted in my arms and threw his arms round my neck, pressing his warm little cheek against mine and whispered in my ear. “I don’t want to go, Daddy.” I wrapped him in my arms and clasped him so close I wanted him to melt into me so we couldn’t be parted.

“I know, Soldier, but it won’t be for long and you’re a lucky thing getting extra holiday in the country. Wish I was coming.” He could never know how much I meant that. “And you have to look after Alice, too, ’cause you know what she’s like, she won’t want to go either.”

Alice could not have heard the exchange, but she sensed the moment and came running from the sink and crashed into my legs, trying her best to join her hands round my waist and bury her face into my belly. I could feel her shoulders heaving with her sobs and, clutching my son in one arm, I reached down and clasped the back of her head and pressed her closer still. Without looking, my eyes were so tightly shut they hurt, I could see in my mind’s eye her soft, golden hair, tumbling in bubbling curls half-way down her back.

When I dared open my eyes, I found myself instinctively looking straight into Mary’s. She made no sound as tears slid down each side of her face.

“Right, you silly lot. This won’t do. We’ve got tea to eat and lots of getting ready for your adventure. You gotta choose the things you want to take, then everything’s got to be packed, Mummy’s got labels to write. And I…well I’ve got things to do, too.”

“What have you got to do, Daddy?” It was Alice who managed to join me in breaking the moment.

“Now that’s for me to know and you to find out. But you won’t be finding out till tomorrow.”

“Oh Daddy, that’s not fair. That’s teasing and you say we shouldn’t tease.” Micky had eased his cheek from mine and was looking straight at me.

“Yeah, but I’m a grown up and I’m allowed.”

As I lowered Micky to the floor again, I kissed the top of Alice’s head and inhaled as deeply as I could. I needed to lock in the smell of them both. We took our usual places at the table, Mary nearest the stove to fetch and carry, the children either side and opposite each other, and me at the end opposite Mary. It had never been decided that this is how it would be, it just happened. It was a bit like the colour of eyes, or the size of feet being handed down, inherited. It was just the way we did it and it felt right and comfortable. It was the shape of our perfect little family.

Tea was eaten more quietly than usual: the questions the children must have had I suspect could not be asked. They were too big, too difficult to voice because then they would become real issues instead of potential ones. Neither Mary nor I could guess their thoughts for certain and feared we might sow a seed of fear they might not have had if we were to explore the possibilities with them. So, we sat in a cloud of denial. Not lying to each other by saying but doing so by not.

Micky looked the most lost in his thoughts. It wasn’t right that such big things had to be considered by one so small. I daren’t even try to put myself in his place, wonder what I would have felt like at six years old, leaving my Mum and Dad to go off to who knew where, to live with who knew who, for who knew how long. One thought poked itself into my head but, as the possibility of never seeing my little ones again flitted across my thoughts, Micky spoke and a shutter seemingly came down and ‘what ifs’ returned to ‘what now?’

“Can I take Bunners?”

In all the magnitude of the situation, in a mountain of potential consequences, Micky’s troubled, almost tearful fear that he might be separated from his beloved, stuffed and threadbare rabbit broke the silence at last. And I laughed. It was so absurd, so incongruous and had I not laughed I would most certainly have cried.

Author Bio:

Keith Stuart (Wadsworth) taught English for 36 years in Hertfordshire schools, the county in which he was born and has lived most of his life. Married with two sons, sport, music and, especially when he retired after sixteen years as a headteacher, travel, have been his passions. Apart from his own reading, reading and guiding students in their writing; composing assemblies; writing reports, discussion and analysis papers, left him with a declared intention to write a book. Pied Piper is ‘it’. Starting life as a warm-up exercise at the Creative Writing Class he joined in Letchworth, it grew into this debut novel.

[Blog Tour] 'Pied Piper' By Keith Stuart #HistoricalFiction #WW2
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14 April 2021

'Progression: Glory Days, Pt 2' - Vic Santoro Delivers The Second Instalment of His 2021 Trilogy

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'Progression: Glory Days, Pt 2' - Vic Santoro Delivers The Second Instalment of His 2021 Trilogy
Vic Santoro delivers second instalment of his 2021 trilogy - 'Progression: Glory Days, Pt 2'
South London rapper Vic Santoro returns with energetic new mixtape Progression: Glory Days, Pt 2, out today via American, Austin-based label Big Indie Records.
Following on from the hard-hitting, introspective vibes of Pain: Glory Days Pt. 1 in February, Progression: Glory Days, Pt 2 sees Vic reveal his endeavours to break away from the hardships of his life, and to shape a better future for himself. It marks the second instalment of his trio of mixtapes, made up of some of the 100+ songs Vic has recorded over the past few years.

Things open with 'No Regrets', the focus track of the project that pairs motivational lyrics of levelling up with an idyllic, blissed-out production. 
Speaking on this tune, Vic says, "No Regrets is about finally taking that leap to enter the next phase in your life. Being able to assess your journey thus far and highlighting the lesson."
Next up is recent single 'Came And Saw', with Vic in a nostalgic mood as he reflects on how far he has come, setting his intentions for how he means to go on. Produced and directed by Vic himself, the slick, monochrome official video perfectly captures the essence of his triumph over his struggles.

'Slipped Up' and 'Represents' are then characterised by lucid social commentary documenting his life on the streets and during his 11 year stint in prison, making for a more reflective listen. 

'Top 5' closes things out featuring emotive vocalist Elle Cato, with Vic reflecting on his time in prison and vowing to never return to that life as he raps honestly amidst a funk-laden, gospel-inspired production.
Speaking on the overall project, Vic explains, "Glory Days Pt. 2 is a continuity of my journal. On Part 1 I spoke on my trials and tribulations and on this one I speak on the tools I used to make it through difficult moments. This is the part in the movie where the main character recovers from a tragedy and goes on to be triumphant in his endeavours."
'Progression: Glory Days, Pt 2' - Vic Santoro Delivers The Second Instalment of His 2021 Trilogy
To celebrate the release of 'Progression: Glory Days, Pt 2', Vic Santoro partners up with Morley's to #FeedTheVillage
Born in Cameroon before moving to the concrete jungle that is London, Vic Santoro found solace in his creativity during his teenage years, reading and reciting poetry, studying English literature before being turned onto the revolutionary teachings of rap's greatest poet Tupac Shakur.

A supremely talented street poet, Progression: Glory Days, Pt 2 is destined to further bolster the ever-growing reputation of Vic Santoro.


SOURCE: Vic Santoro

12 April 2021

[Blog Tour] 'Songbird' (The Tudor Court, Book I) By Karen Heenan #HistoricalFiction

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[Blog Tour] 'Songbird' (The Tudor Court, Book I) By Karen Heenan #HistoricalFiction
'Songbird' - Tour Banner

The Book:

Songbird
(The Tudor Court, Book I)
By Karen Heenan
  • Narrator: Jennifer Summerfield
  • Publication Date: November 3, 2019
  • Publisher: Authors4Authors Publishing Cooperative
  • Page Length: 300 pages
  • Genre: Historical Fiction

The Blurb:

She has the voice of an angel...

But one false note could send her back to her old life of poverty.

After her father sells her to Henry VIII, ten-year-old Bess builds a new life as a royal minstrel, and earns the nickname "the king's songbird."

She comes of age in the dangerous Tudor court, where the stakes are always high, and where politics, heartbreak, and disease threaten everyone from the king to the lowliest musician.

Her world has only one constant: Tom, her first and dearest friend. But when Bess intrigues with Anne Boleyn and strains against the restrictions of life at court, will she discover that the biggest risk of all is listening to her own stubborn heart?

Buy Links: 

Audio Buy Links: 

Narrated by Jennifer Summerfield
[Blog Tour] 'Songbird' (The Tudor Court, Book I) By Karen Heenan #HistoricalFiction
'Songbird' - Front Cover

'Songbird' (The Tudor Court, Book I) - Excerpt:

Setup: Spring, 1517. Bess Llewelyn, sold to the king by her father, has been with the court for several months. She has undergone intensive training and is about to sing for the king and court for the first time. Her future rests on the success of her performance.

***

The still morning air was shattered by the winding of the horn as the hunt thundered from the stables. The sky was pink-tinged, the grass soaked with dew.

I watched as the horses streamed up the slope of Shooter’s Hill, the gaily dressed riders looking like figures from a tapestry. Despite their pace, the attitude was leisurely; everyone knew there would be no real sport. King Henry was at the head of the field, splendid in Lincoln green velvet, a jaunty plume in his cap. He kept a close hand on the reins of his black horse as it twitched and bounded with contagious excitement. I clapped my hands when he stood in the stirrups and let the horse have its head and prance along. After everyone had admired his prowess, the king pulled his mount back to ride alongside the queen’s well-mannered gray mare.

The murmur of voices behind me ebbed and flowed like the Thames, but I was all impatience like the king’s horse and turned from the window. “Mistress, are we leaving?”

“Does it appear that we’re moving, Bess?” came the reply from across the chamber. “Don’t fuss. You’ll spoil your gown.”

Mistress Keith, rounded and glowing like an apple, placed a circlet of leaves and gillyflowers on my head. “You’re lovely,” she said with a pat of approval. “You look like a young lady in that gown.”

I thrilled to her words, for hadn’t I thought the same? I didn’t often care how I looked, but this gown was beautiful, and I felt more tolerant than usual of the girlish chatter of slippers and sleeves. The heady scent of the wreath made me sneeze, and I did so stiffly, careful not to disturb the ornaments sewn to my willow-green bodice and skirt.

The performers left in a series of carts, traveling along the worn roundabout path. We arrived ahead of the hunting party and were hidden away when we heard the horn. Henry Guildford, dressed as Robin Hood, shouted a challenge to the royal party to join his merry men.

I experienced a moment of disbelief that I should be a part of such a world and felt in my stomach a fluttering much like the wings of the captive birds netted for the occasion. I prayed I would not disgrace myself when the time came.

Soft music filtered through the trees as the king and queen were led to the dais inside the vast silken tent. I stayed hidden behind my tent-flap, dreamily watching the grand spectacle, wishing it was what the king pretended it to be: an innocent hunting-party overtaken by robbers and whisked into the forest.

The outlaws served the party with course after course of sumptuous fare carried apace from the palace kitchens. I lost count of the number of peacocks, cooked and reunited with their feathers, their beaks and claws turned to gold. There were courses of fish and fowl, lark, and pheasant, and a special dish of stewed lampreys, the king’s favorite. There was much wine and laughter, until I thought the performances forgotten, but at last, Guildford rose and bowed before the king.

“Your Grace, if a poor man may make so bold as to attempt to please his sovereign, I would offer you a little entertainment.” He flung his arms wide, and three musicians entered. Harry and Gilbert looked well in their outlaw garb, but I was most proud of Tom, who was tall and fine in green hose and a leather jerkin over a soft white linen shirt.

Their music was gay and light and rang out marvelously in the enclosure. I judged no one need strain to hear and would pitch my own voice accordingly. When the trio began the last of their songs, joined this time by a group of girls in white flower-bedecked dresses, I readied myself for my entrance.

The king shouted his approval, and Gilbert and Harry bowed their way out of the tent, while Guildford took the stage again, his handsome, fleshy face smiling at the success of the entertainment thus far. “I would offer another treat for His Majesty,” he said. “A small sprite, found in the wood. Fairies, as Your Grace knows, cannot be tamed, but this one has consented to sing for us.”

Someone pushed me forward, and in small, springing steps, I joined Tom before the king and queen, dropping into the low curtsy that was now second nature. Master Fayrefax’s tune emerged from lips and lute as perfectly as it had sounded in the composer’s mind when he wrote the piece. I knew it without vanity, knew it as well as I knew Tom’s songs were better.

There was silence as we performed, and when we finished, King Henry broke into hearty applause. Tom put his hand on my shoulder, and we made our bow together, then retreated to let the next performers come forward. Before we ducked out of the tent, I heard the king say, “Methinks I have heard that sprite before. She sings exceeding well.”

I threw my arms around Tom. “He liked it!”

“Of course, he did.” Laughing, he pulled me loose and set me down on a felled tree, gently, for fear of my gown. “You’ve an angel in your throat, Bess, and King Henry is too much a musician not to know it.”

I leaned back and looked up at the sky, seeing it only as chinks of bright blue through the thick trees. “I would not sing so well were anyone else to play for me.”

“Silly child,” he said, kneeling and brushing grass from my skirt. “I can’t play for you forever, Bess. They won’t allow it. You must learn to stand on your own.”

[Blog Tour] 'Songbird' (The Tudor Court, Book I) By Karen Heenan #HistoricalFiction
Karen Heenan

Author Bio:

Karen Heenan was born and raised in Philadelphia, PA. She fell in love with books and stories before she could read, and has wanted to write for nearly as long. After far too many years in a cubicle, she set herself free to follow her dreams—which include gardening, sewing, traveling and, of course, lots of writing.

She lives in Lansdowne, PA, not far from Philadelphia, with two cats and a very patient husband, and is always hard at work on her next book.

Connect with Karen:

[Blog Tour] 'Songbird' (The Tudor Court, Book I) By Karen Heenan #HistoricalFiction
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