After He’s Gone – Jane Isaac – Guest Post

Today it is my pleasure to my blog Jane Isaac to talk about starting a new series. I will give you the synopsis first.

About the Book

You think you know him. Until he’s dead.

When Cameron Swift is gunned down outside his family home, DC Beth Chamberlain is appointed Family Liaison Officer: a dual role that requires her to support the family, and also investigate them.

As the case unfolds and the body count climbs, Beth discovers that nothing is quite as it appears and everyone, it seems, has secrets.

Even the dead…

Guest Post

Doing Something Different

Thank you so much for inviting me onto your blog! This month marks the publication of a not only a new book for me, but also the start of a new crime series.
Those who’ve read my work will know I currently write the DCI Helen Lavery series and the DI Will Jackman series. It can be a difficult decision to change when readers have invested so much in your characters, but I see it more as a break. I’d love to work with both Helen and Will again in the future, but wanted to try something different for the moment, to keep the stories fresh.
After He’s Gone introduces Family Liaison Officer, DC Beth Chamberlain. It’s been an interesting series to research and write as it offers a different perspective on murder investigations, focussing on the victim’s family. Family Liaison Officers are deployed to support families of victims of serious crime like homicide, road death and other critical incidents. They spend a lot of time updating them on the investigation and feeding back information and often get very close. And since most people are killed by someone they know or someone close to them, it affords the opportunity to unravel some really intriguing secrets!
For me, finishing a book represents the end of a journey, but it’s by no means the end of the road. As soon as I completed my first draft of After He’s Gone and sent it off to my editor, I began working on the second DC Beth Chamberlain novel which is scheduled for release at the end of this year, and it’s been interesting to watch Beth deal with the trials of a new investigation. One of the joys of writing a series is that, by the end of the first book, you know the character implicitly and it’s wonderful to challenge and stretch them in other directions.
There’s always a sense of trepidation that accompanies sharing a new book with the world. I realise I’m not alone here, some of the most famous authors, with a stream of books behind them, have spoken of their angst when they release a new title. Will readers like it as much as the last? Will it fulfil their expectations? An editor once told me that every book we write should be better and richer, a development on the last. No pressure there then! These thoughts have been more prominent with After He’s Gone, I guess because I’ve tried to do something different. Hopefully, readers will find it a fresh, interesting slant on the contemporary police procedural. Time will tell.

Author Bio

Jane Isaac lives with her detective husband (very helpful for research!) and her daughter in rural Northamptonshire, UK where she can often be found trudging over the fields with her Labrador, Bollo. Her debut, An Unfamiliar Murder, was nominated as best mystery in the ‘eFestival of Words Best of the Independent eBook awards 2013.’ The follow up, The Truth Will Out, was nominated as ‘Thriller of the Month – April 2014’ by
After He’s Gone is Jane’s sixth novel and the first in a new series featuring Family Liaison Officer, DC Beth Chamberlain. The second DC Beth Chamberlain novel will be released later in 2018.
Connect with Jane at .

Disco Sour by Giuseppe Porcaro – Guest Post.




Today it is my pleasure to feature a guest post from Giuseppe Porcaro. I will share what the book is about first.

About the Book

A politician addicted to dating apps embarks on an existential odyssey to save democracy from being swiped away. In the aftermath of a continental civil-war, nation-states have collapsed, the European Union (TM) holds on, preventing anarchy. Bastian Balthazar Bux is a leading member of The Federation (R), the European network of civil society and local governments. Bastian has just been unexpectedly dumped through an app, the BreakupShop (TM) service. Heavy hearted, he just wants to drink, get on with work and forget his romantic woes. However, he discovers that Nathan Ziggy Zukowsky is planning to sell Plebiscitum (R), a dating-style app that is meant to replace elections with a simple swipe, at the same conference he is invited to attend in Chile. Haunted by the ghosts of his recent relationship, he finds himself without his all-important Morph (R) phone, just a few hours before embarking on his trip to try to save democracy. Will he make it to his conference on the other side of the world? Will he stop Zukowsky from selling his app? And will he ever find a way to deal with his breakup? “Disco Sour is a hallucinatory trip through a future which feels just a phone-swipe away. There are notes of Pynchon, Stross, Heller and Stephenson here, but this is very much Porcaro’s book. It’s wildly inventive, scarily plausible, and it’s also very, very funny.” Dave Hutchinson


DISCO SOUR is an alt-history novel set in the near past (even if many people think it’s the near future). Set in a parallel timeline where Europe is hit by a civil war, it revolves around the story of Bastian, a dating app addicted politician, who embarks on an existential odyssey to save democracy.

For alt-history geeks, the events covered in the book span between 2008 and late 2013 in this parallel universe, but they are told from the point of view of the narrator-protagonist, who writes his memories from the future, in the late 2040s.

I had a great fun to rewrite a page of recent history and in this post I collect a summary of the scratch notes I’ve made to build the geopolitics of this universe. Not everything made it finally in the book, but it was a lot of fun writing it. No spoilers are presented.

So, the war. It all starts with the burst of the housing bubble in Greece in the late 2000s. The economy is pumped by money laundering and driven by massive urbanisation. The city of Thessaloniki explodes the first. People lose their jobs, anger is set towards real estate companies, or whomever is perceived guilty.

Before the war, national governments were emptied of their actual meaning, weakened by lack of funds, lack of political instruments, and outsourcing state functions to private actors. For example, there were there were no national armies, but private contractors were hired by the government for ad hoc operations.

The sparkle.

The death of a teenage boy, suspected to be raped and then drowned by the owner of the largest Greek real estate company sets the city on fire, circa 2008. People come on the street and set fires and barricades to building sites in the hood of Kalochori in Thessaloniki, Greece.

Kalochori is a symbolic place. It’s an economic free zone, operating under authorities independent from the domestic laws of its host country, these zones typically provide premium utilities and a set of incentives – tax exemptions, foreign ownership of property, cheap labour, and deregulation of labour, etc. – to entice business. Exempt from the law, labour abuse can proceed unchecked by political process. Free zones contribute to the hollowing out of the nation state.

The attitude of the Greek state after the accident is ambiguous. First, they don’t want to get involved in the riots. Police is deployed but they have the strict order not to fire against anyone. They act as a sort of interposition buffer within city boundaries and they just limit themselves to contain violence.

Pressured by the largest companies and the mafia, in virtue of the right to defend property, the government drafts a legislation allowing armed self-defence of building sites and free economic zones by hired troops. Most of translational real estate companies fearing a domino effect, they pressure Greece to make a case for a European legislation on the matter.

After an extraordinary European summit of Heads of State, a legislation is jointly passed throughout the continent: the Constructions & Free Zones Acts. The only thing that softens the legislation is the absolute prohibition to use armed air-forces and air-drones as they would easily go beyond the perimeters of the constructions and free zones.

At that point, the European Commission and the European Parliament issue a declaration against the Acts, but it’s a symbolic protest. As retaliation, Denmark, Sweden, the UK exit from the European Union and form a new “United Kingdom”.


All over Europe people see these laws as provocations, and they respond with provocation, spreading way beyond free zones and the largest urbanisation projects. They start smashing anything that vaguely resembles a construction site, including work in progress in the streets.

Cities become battlefields. The death toll in this first wave is considerable. There is only the will to destroy everything, rather than fight against someone specific. Also, provocation plays a big role. Students, local activists, normal citizens, can’t believe, at the beginning, that the militarisation is for real.

The first weeks are real butchery and confused. Often troops are hired by local contractors, that are either in charge of scaffolding, or the security of the site, other times they are hired by landowners. In the Free Zones, troops from various contractors operate, making it difficult to have coordination in the military actions.

The conflict peaks.

The organisation of different factions happens not along party lines or among fighting for a cause. But vendetta. For those within their family, their associations, their neighbours, that have been killed or injured by the troops during the first wave.

This is a simplified scheme of the parties in conflict all over the continent.

Private troops: they take the liberty to react to any attacks to their ranks, even outside free zones and building sites. These troops are directly or indirectly hired by Russians, Chinese and Arab companies, but it’s difficult to map the exact ownership of each troop deployed as there are many subcontractors.

Local armies: they formally fight against private troops and attached to city and other local governments.

“Rebel” troops: they are comprised by students, anarchists, citizens’ associations turned into various militias, etc. they also fight private armies, but eventually they also happen to attack building sites owned by local governments.

Negotiations and armistice.

Eventually, the war evolves in its third phase. More tactic, less bloody.

The various factions start to position themselves to gain only small victories on the ground. Everyone is looking at their own interests to leverage their stakes sooner or later, when the military phase will be over. It’s de facto anarchy, but it starts to be an organised anarchy.

Negotiations finally lead to the armistice and to the end of the war. Thanks to the peace talks everyone (except the already dying nation states) get something.

Local governments are granted large autonomy on the field, under compliance with the privatisation acts and the European fundamental law (they are the ones controlling the territory, run local police etc.).

Private companies get the privatisations concordat. Every service or good needs to be registered, copyrighted, privatised. This goes along with the empowerment of the European Patent Office, which becomes a very powerful entity, almost independent to the European Union.

The European Union receives the mandate to preserve the rule of law, draft the fundamental law and ensure a governance at continental scale.

Associations, trade unions, students, etc. get a share of the new decision making system, but they need to share part of this power with local authorities.

Nation states are blamed as the scapegoats of the whole mess – but anyway, they didn’t exist anymore in the form we use to know already since before the war – the armistice just recognises that the primary political entity in the continent is the European Union, with its administrative regions, city states, associate entities, etc.

Disco Sour Blog Tour Poster

The Man Who Lived Twice by David Taylor – Guest Post – Blog Tour.

The Man Who Lived Twice Final Cover
It is my pleasure today to welcome to my blog David Taylor to  talk about true facts in historical fiction.

About the Book

The Man Who Lived Twice tells the remarkable story of a nineteenth century British anti-hero. Colonel George St Leger Grenfell was the black sheep in one of Cornwall s most illustrious families. His wild speculations in Paris bankrupted his father and drove his brothers and sisters out of their home. Wanted for fraud in France and mosque desecration in Morocco, Grenfell became a soldier of fortune, a mercenary who fought in innumerable campaigns all over the world, always with conspicuous gallantry. He charged with the Light Brigade at Balaclava, defended the bullet-strewn barricades in the Indian Mutiny, hacked his way through the Chinese Opium War and helped Garibaldi to liberate Italy. Sailing to America to fight in their Civil War, Ole St Lege became a legend to the gullible hillbillies under his command.

As massive armies collided and one hair-raising cavalry charge followed another, this complex man fell in love with a beautiful spy and came to realise that he could no longer run away from his past. In what was to become a spiritual odyssey, Grenfell met the men and women who made, marred and mythologised the American century: the business tycoons and social reformers as well as the Lincoln conspirators and back-shooting gunslingers. Although seemingly indestructible – in one military skirmish he was shot eleven times without serious injury – Grenfell had to endure long years in prison before his luck finally changed. The Man Who Lived Twice describes a personal search for redemption set against the emergence of the United States as a world power.


Is your story true? Historical novelists are often asked this question. Sadly, there is no clear-cut answer. Truth is a relative term not an absolute. The belief that there is a hard core of historical facts existing objectively and independently of later interpretation is a complete nonsense. Yes, you can get your dates right. The Battle of Hastings was fought in 1066 but where it was fought and why the Normans beat the Saxons are still hotly debated issues.
We know comparatively little about the distant past and what we do know is coloured by the fact that history is always written by the winners. For instance, in the sixteenth century, a historian’s first duty was to support the shaky Tudor claim to the throne while, even in the modern age of mass communication, those in power have been tempted to suppress serious criticism, which helps to explain gulags and concentration camps.
So where does this leave history? I think it’s like a shipwreck that has sunk out of sight, leaving bits of debris floating on the surface for scholars to salvage. In sifting through this flotsam, historians come to radically different conclusions about the wider picture. It’s like trying to do a jigsaw when most of the pieces are missing. ‘Facts are not truth,’ award-winning author Hilary Mantel argues, but simply ‘the record of what’s left on the record’ – state papers, birth and death certificates, self-serving biographies or merely scraps of writing. What’s not there, of course, is unrecorded speech, the testimony of the masses. Hence the need for historical fiction which, at its best, fills many of the gaps and silences in the archives.
Hailed as a new art form, the historical novel actually draws on a very old tradition. Before the written word, our ancestors relied on storytelling, an oral history that was far more democratic than the document-based evidence that succeeded it. ‘The historian will tell you what happened,’ wrote the American author E L Doctorow. ‘The novelist will tell you what it felt like.’ What matters is not absolute truth but the truth of the tale, the poetic awakening of ordinary folk.
And it took a poet to get the ball rolling. Finding himself eclipsed by Byron’s celebrity and greater originality, Sir Walter Scott abandoned narrative verse and turned to fiction with immediate success. The first edition of Waverley in 1814 sold out in two days. However, not everyone welcomed its appearance. ‘Walter Scott has no business to write novels, especially good ones – it is not fair,’ wrote Jane Austen, with tongue in cheek. ‘He has fame and profit enough as a poet, and should not be taking the bread out of other people’s mouths.’
There was no stopping Sir Walter’s literary juggernaut. Churning out twenty-seven books in seventeen years, he made himself the greatest writer of his age and remained a literary icon long after his death, almost as revered as Shakespeare for his ability to visualise history. His tartan kilted romances were said to have defined Scottish identity while Ivanhoe, his twelfth century tale of love, valour and intrigue, not only glamorized the Middle Ages but reawakened academic interest in it. Scott’s influence was everywhere. An ocean away in America, his tales of chivalry – the cult of knightly honour and the glorification of womanhood – captured the romantic imagination of the Southern upper classes to such an extent that Mark Twain would later claim that Sir Walter was largely to blame for the American Civil War.
But it couldn’t last. Tastes were changing. Scott’s romances fell out of fashion as Victorian England searched for social and psychological realism. Dickens and Thackeray authored grittier stories for a new generation while, far away in Russia, Tolstoy wrote War and Peace, a truly panoramic novel which somehow managed to be both romantic and realistic.
The divide between these two kinds of historical fiction is very apparent today. Bookshops stack shelves with the latest historical romances, many of which have lurid bodice-ripping covers, although none of these books could possibly equal Margaret Mitchell’s 1936 masterpiece, Gone With the Wind, a sweeping Civil War novel that was also a lament for a lost civilisation, an Iliad with a Southern accent. Much less shelf space but rather more praise will be devoted to the literary subgenre known as historical realism, a category in which Hilary Mantel’s novels about the inner life of Henry VIII’s chief minister Thomas Cromwell surely take pride of place.
Which brings me to my own novel, The Man Who Lived Twice, and why anyone should buy it. In answering that question, I might direct you to the reviews on the book’s Amazon page where it is called ‘an epic tale’ with ‘a gripping narrative’ and flattering comparisons are drawn with Patrick O’Brian’s Aubrey series. I know this much; I wanted my readers to experience the carnage of a Civil War battlefield and to know what it was like to wear heavy leg irons in a damp prison cell with cockroaches and mosquitos for company. To trigger my imagination, I used real people and real historical events, filling the gaps in the story as I went along. But why don’t I tell you about it and let you decide whether my novel deserves a place on your bookshelf?
The Man Who Lived Twice is a panoramic novel set largely in nineteenth century America. Its central character is Colonel George St Leger Grenfell, a courageous but deeply flawed Cornish mercenary who happened to be the highest-ranking British officer in the Confederate Army. Admired by General Robert E Lee and a legend to the gullible hillbillies under his command, ‘Ole St Lege’ claimed to have charged with the Light Brigade at Balaclava, hacked his way through the Opium War, defended the bullet-strewn barricades in the Indian Mutiny and helped Garibaldi liberate Italy. Yet the tall, forbidding figure who tells these campfire tales is a wanted criminal, a fraudster who bankrupted his own father. He also has a death wish, an almost suicidal urge to risk his skin for a cause he privately believes to be doomed.
As massive armies collide and one hair-raising cavalry charge follows another, this complex man meets the love of his life, Rose Greenhow, a femme fatale who had gone from being the de facto First Lady in the White House to a notorious Confederate spy, and comes to realise he can no longer run away from his past. In his spiritual odyssey, Grenfell travels the length and breadth of the continent, soaring precariously over enemy lines in a balloon and riding the rails in the Wild West, meeting the men and women who made, marred and mythologised American history: the business tycoons, early feminists and social reformers as well as the big-city bosses, murderous gunslingers and so-called Lincoln assassins. Although apparently indestructible – in one Civil War skirmish he is shot eleven times without serious injury – Grenfell doesn’t have much luck. He is sentenced to death for a crime he never committed, spends long years in prison, and loses the woman he loves. Then his fortune changes and he gets a second chance in life. The Man Who Lived Twice is the story of a personal search for redemption set against the emergence of the United States as a world power. I hope you will consider reading it.


A Baby’s Bones by Rebecca Alexander – Guest Post – Blog Tour.


Today it is my pleasure to host a guest post from Rebecca Alexander who talks about how literary and film influenced her writing. But first I will tell you about the book. It is one that I can’t wait to read.

About the Book

Archaeologist Sage Westfield has been called in to excavate a sixteenth-century well, and expects to find little more than soil and the odd piece of pottery. But the disturbing discovery of the bones of a woman and newborn baby make it clear that she has stumbled onto an historical crime scene, one that is interwoven with an unsettling local legend of witchcraft and unrequited love. Yet there is more to the case than a four-hundred-year-old mystery. The owners of a nearby cottage are convinced that it is haunted, and the local vicar is being plagued with abusive phone calls. Then a tragic death makes it all too clear that a modern murderer is at work…

Literary and Film Influences

There is always an overlap between writing history, with its snippets of information lost in ledgers and court documents, and wanting to write a historical fiction with realistic characters. Every writer tackles that overlap differently. Alison Weir, for example, strikes me as a writer who uses every bit of known information them lets imagination fill in the gaps. I find her books wonderfully researched, full of the tiny details of Tudor life. Philippa Gregory manages to convince me in a different way, the characters believable and the story in the foreground, the background authoritative without being too detailed. I enjoy both enormously, and both help me find my way in the morass of historical detail to trust in the story.

I’m a big fan of the 1580s for lots of reasons, and I’m not alone. Films from Shakespeare in Love to Elizabeth: The Golden Years show a glittering world of an England in a cultural renaissance. Ordinary people had seen their prosperity improve, religious freedom started to develop (at least in private) and our modern perspective on things like science and human rights started to evolve. It was also a time of more trading and travel around the world, importing silks and spices, sugar and new technologies. I love C. J. Sansom’s Shardlake mysteries, they are based earlier but reflect the turmoil that England was going through with the upheaval of the dissolution of the monasteries. But when writing the historical strand, my strongest influence came from books like the Giordano Bruno mysteries by S.J. Parris. Bruno is surrounded by many of the characters from my own books like John Dee (the sorcerer and astrologer) and his associate, Edward Kelley. I was also informed by the fascinating The Time Traveller’s Guide to Elizabethan England by Ian Mortimer, which is so entertaining I read it like a novel when I first found it.

Although I hadn’t read Elly Griffiths’ wonderful Ruth Galloway stories until after I had written A Baby’s Bones, I loved them. I enjoyed the slightly disorganised, strongly independent main character, and the wide range of archaeological puzzles she writes about. I have since read them all and they are wonderful at developing the main characters through the varied storylines and the crimes she investigates.

Writing historical fiction obviously involves reading a lot of research, some of whom tell their own stories. Many books from the era survive, and it’s possible to get lost in the research and struggle to find time to write the story. With A Baby’s Bones I found the story easier to write while wandering around Elizabethan houses, reading ‘receipt books’ like Catherine Tollemache’s and reading Philippa Gregory and Alison Weir’s books.

A Baby's Bones blog tour banner

Indigo Lost by S. R Summers – Guest Post – Blog Tour.


On my blog  today is a guest post from S.R Summers where she talks about her views on social media and how damaging it can be. But first I will tell you what her book is about.

About the book

Don’t think. Just run. When what lies ahead is less fearful than what lies behind, and west-coast unknowns less terrifying than east-side tragedies, there is no choice other than the one through the window at the end of a third-floor police station corridor. Without another thought, the girl runs. Her jump will take her to the street below, to encounters with humanity that will both shock and save her, to the girl she becomes the one who knows how to fight, but also survive, even shine, in the darkest places. She does not go unnoticed. The mob boss, the ruler of Vegas, has seen her. But she is not ready to be seen. And this time there is no corridor, and no window.

Guest Post 

As someone who grew up with the launch of social media, and witnessed the welcome it received as the new golden era of human communication, I find it sad now to be writing a piece on how damaging it can be.
The contrast could not be stronger between a decade ago, when we were told it would bring us all closer together, and now, when in the unsettled social-political climate we see Facebook founder, Mark Zuckerberg, testifying about data breaches to the US Senate, with millions of users’ personal data having been misused – ironically including that of the founder himself. Add to this the fact that even an ex-executive of Facebook, Chamath Palihapitiya, admitted feeling intense guilt from having helped create ‘tools that are ripping apart the social fabric of how society works’, it is fair to say we are living through a challenging dimension on our ball of rock in the big sea of space. And it is something we all need to face up to, because we know, despite the negative press, that we have all the apps on our phones, tablets and laptops, and we keep using them like addicts that just can’t give up the habit.
One of social media’s most lauded assets – and now it’s greatest danger – is that it can reach almost everyone – and age limits are irrelevant when no proof is needed to create accounts. There is no age test, no ‘how-to’ guide: we are all guinea-pigs in a huge social experiment. But like all human constructs, however well intentioned, they are open to corruption and abuse when people devise ways to manipulate them to their advantage – which is how we started with algorithms that show us ‘friends’ we might have in common, and ended up with headlines telling us Russia might have influenced the US 2017 Presidential Election, and possibly the Brexit result. People express concern about the volume of misinformation online now, that no one knows what the truth is anymore. Even established news outlets like the BBC are no longer seen as the bastions of truth that they once were, so intertwined has the media become with social media, constantly vying for our attention. Can anyone quantify the impact this increasing lack of trust will have on society? How can we achieve integrity in our mass-communications?
From political super-powers, all the way down to individuals, I know from first-hand experience how complicated social media can make life – I have a large number of people on my ‘blocked’ list because of abusive behaviour. ‘Trolling’ no longer raises eyebrows when it’s mentioned on the news, and though widely condemned, the volume of inflammatory comments per hour, let alone in a day, makes social media a very hard entity to police. I employ a number of teenagers, and have witnessed their distress because of vicious comments, unwanted friend requests, badly chosen photos, being unfriended . . . the list goes on and on. And on another list, we could write words like, ‘depression’ and ‘low self-esteem’. I gave a talk at a careers event at a school a few months ago and touched on how, when we put something out there for the world, we have to be prepared for people’s opinions, and how imperative it is to learn to ignore the negative and only give credence to constructive criticism. Many parents approached me to thank me for attempting to create some sort of perspective on the social media issue. (It is worth noting that in the last three years there has been an 87% increase in the number of Childline’s counselling sessions for online bullying. And according to some sources, Facebook is a key reason for about one third of divorces! So, it’s not just young people who are being affected.)
So, is there any good news? Something we could give a big thumbs-up to, despite this murky, insidiously easy-to-use algorithm-based online world we use every day? Despite the flaws, some say social media has helped raise awareness for charities, and raise money that has changed lives for the better. But is that enough of a reason to keep feeding the social media machine?
One rather inconceivable concept, and something I’m tremendously interested in, is whether we’ll one day learn a huge lesson from social media, and choose to go back to living without it; that we’ll decide that the price we pay for devoting so much time to our online life is just not worth it. Surely, sincere, real-world social interaction is always going to be better? That dinner with friends without constantly checking (and updating!) our Instagram accounts will be a far closer and connective experience? We have already seen numerous people shut down their Facebook accounts: Elon Tusk took SpaceX and Tesla off their platform; pub chain JD Wetherspoons deleted all social media accounts because of the level of trolling taking place. What if we, as individuals, also chose to remove ourselves from social media, not for business reasons, but for the sake of morality and respect? For truly, it is morality and respect (and self-respect) that dictate how ‘civilised’ a species we are, not how many followers or ‘likes’ we have.
I once said to someone, ‘Sometimes you have to do something once, to know you don’t want to do it again.’ Could this be true with respect to social media? Do we need to keep ‘doing it’ again and again until morality and respect are annihilated entirely?  I hope the damage done by social media will one day be mitigated by a resurgence of integrity and unity. I plan to be a part of that. Do you?

About the Author

Twitter: @indigolost
Living in Leamington Spa, West Midlands, S.R. Summers owns and runs the popular ZouBisou cafe. Previously, she has enjoyed a career working within broadcast media whilst living in Belgium and within the field of e-commerce. She also holds a degree in History from the University of Cambridge. When not managing her cafe, you’ll find her busy writing and working on the final book in her Infinity Squared eight-part series. The first in the series, Indigo Lost by S.R, Summers (published by ShieldCrest Publishing April 2018 RRP £20 hardback, £12 paperback and £5.99 e-book) is available to purchase from online retailers, including Amazon, and to order from all good bookstores. For more information you can follow the author @indigolost.
Amazon Buy Links:

Monika Cover 2