The summer is almost over and autumn is around the corner. This year is certainly flying by. Here's a little wrap up of what I've been doing and reading this month:

What I Read

5 Stars:

The Cherry Tree Cafe by Heidi Swain

Appleby Farm by Cathy Bramley

I Followed the Rules by Joanna Bolouri

Dream a Little Dream by Giovanna Fletcher

4 Stars:

The Other Me by Saskia Sarginson

Masquerade by Joanna Taylor

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier

3 Stars: 

Mile High by Rebecca Chance

Sole Sister by Brooklyn James

To be Reviewed:

Love May Fail by Matthew Quick

The Curvy Girls Baby Club

What I Cooked

This month I had the pleasure of interviewed two great authors on the blog:

Nikki Moore & Saskia Sarginson

And the lovely author Heidi Swain shared a fantastic crafty guest post about how to make Pinwheels:

The Things We Do For Love by Alice Peterson - September 10th

Blurb: Love may hurt, but not loving hurts even more...

January Wild loves her daughter, her dog and her childhood home by the sea.

Single parenting is tough, but January has no regrets. She has a job she loves, a happy home and the support of her beloved grandfather. The arrival of a new boss, however, threatens to shake up January's safe world.

Ward Metcalfe loves great sales results and a well-run office

Everyone at her office agrees: Ward is a soulless, corporate slave driver. Even Spud, the company mascot, dislikes him.

A secret stands between them.

Yet over time January sees there is more to Ward than meets the eye. Rumours circulate. What exactly is he hiding? and is January prepared to risk everything to find out?

Why so excited: Alice Peterson's latest book, One Step Closer to You, was one of my favourite reads last year so since she announced the publications of her new one, I've been counting the days until pub day. And what a wonderful cover! 

The Santangelos by Jackie Collins - September 10th

Why so excited: I have to confess that I haven't read any books by Jackie Collins but have heard great things about them. Plus, I got send a proof copy of this one (wrapped on a very cool animal print paper) and it'll be my next read!

A Parcel For Anna Browne by Miranda Dickinson - September 24th

Why so excited: Who doesn't love a Miranda Dickinson book? I might have done a little dance when I got the proof copy some weeks ago. And I can't wait to start it, it looks and sounds amazing. 

After You by Jojo Moyes - September 24th

Why so excited: Because who isn't? 

Christmas at Lilac Cottage by Holly Martin - September 25th

Blurb: Welcome to the charming seaside town of White Cliff Bay, where Christmas is magical and love is in the air…

Why so excited: Holly Martin is spoiling us this year. We started the year with one of her fantastic and sexy Amelia Thorne's book, then we had the magical Fairytale Beginnings this summer and now Christmas is coming early with Christmas at Lilac Cottage! Oh and there's another Christmas book coming out in October!

Today is my stop on the Bumper Summer Blog Tour for Liz Fenwick celebrating all her books, all of which are displayed above! To celebrate I have an extract of the wonderful The Cornish Affair and a fantastic Giveaway. Don't miss your chance to win a book bundle with all Liz's books: 

Extract: The Cornish Affair

~ One ~

I stood in front of a full-length mirror and didn’t recognise the woman who appeared there.

‘Breathe out.’ Sophie, my best friend, instructed. ‘How much weight have you lost since the last fitting?’

‘I don’t know.’ The dress hung on me. ‘Can we stuff something in it to fill it out?’

Sophie reached into her dress and pulled out two gel objects. ‘Here, use these.’

I waited while she undid the buttons at the back of the dress. I was not a pretty sight, and not how I ever imagined I’d look on my wedding day. 

‘I just don’t understand why you are in this dress.’

‘Don’t go there. Mother wanted this one.’ 

Sophie rolled her eyes. ‘I was there. This dress would have suited Rose, or even your mother. It’s not you at all.’ 

I took a deep breath and shoved the inserts into the corset. My boobs popped up but not really out. Sophie buttoned me up again. I knew exactly what she meant about the dress. It was fussy, and I looked like a coat hanger wearing a meringue. 

‘Sorry to mention Rose.’ 

‘It’s OK.’ 

Sophie gave me a swift hug, both of us blinking away emotion. I was wearing far too much mascara to cry. 

‘Are you ready?’ My mother, Jane, walked into the room without knocking. She studied me from head to toe. I held my breath. 

‘You look ...’ Mother came up to me and adjusted the neckline of the gown over the bolstered curve of my bust. ‘Perfect.’ 

‘Thanks.’ Another glance in the mirror confirmed her words were a lie. Mother stood beside me, gazing at our reflections. I towered over her delicate frame. Her lilac dress set off her blond hair. The only similarity between us was our mouth; I had her full lips. Rose had been the image of Mother, where I was gangly and dark. 

‘I knew I was right about the dress. It’s far better on you than the one you preferred.’ 

I nodded. There was no point in disagreeing at this stage; I’d left it too late. 

The leaves on the birch trees surrounding the church were still. It was as if time had stopped, yet I heard the chatter inside. I stood at the porch and tried to breathe. The air was heavy, threatening. Despite the haze, the temperature was over a hundred degrees. How could it be so hot on Cape Cod in early June?

‘OK?’ Dad asked as he appeared from behind and took my elbow. 

I frowned, but then turned and gave him a grin. 

‘Nervous?’ He glanced at his watch. It was three o’clock. Any moment now the music would change and I would begin my last walk as a single woman. I looked through the door and down the aisle. The church was filled with pink flowers – hundreds of lilies, to be precise. The altar was barely visible for all the massed blooms in every shade of the wretched colour; particularly pale pink. I’ve always hated pink. I should have said so, but I hadn’t. 

Beside the altar stood my fiancé, John: tall, blond and gorgeous, but even he hadn’t escaped the colour. His waistcoat matched the flower girls’ dresses. Like dolls, they spun around my knees with pink, stinking lilies clutched in their fists. 

I held my bouquet away from me. The scent of lilies was overpowering at any time, but in the heat it was worse, unlike the fragrance of some other flowers. I looked up into Dad’s eyes. 

‘What’s on your mind, Jude?’ 

I leaned over and rested my head on his shoulder for a second. ‘The garden we created in Abu Dhabi.’ 

‘It was this hot too.’ 

‘Yes, it was.’ Abu Dhabi had been special. Rose had still been well when we’d lived there, Mother less frantic, and the garden was sublime. The fragrance of frangipani and night-scented jasmine came to mind. ‘I loved that garden.’ 

‘Me too.’ Dad straightened his waistcoat. The heat was bad enough in my dress. It must have been unbearable in a morning coat. 

‘It was the first one we made from scratch.’ 

‘A long time ago now.’ He put his hand on my arm. 

‘Almost twenty years.’ The music stopped. I felt the pressure of Dad’s grasp increase on my arm. My mouth went dry. 

‘Ready?’ he asked. 

I nodded, but then I saw Mother signalling to the choir loft. ‘False alarm.’ Dad took a hankie out of his pocket and wiped his brow. The rosebud in his buttonhole had gone limp. I touched it. 

‘Not made for this heat, me or the rose.’ He put his hankie away. 

‘I love roses, though.’ A lump formed in my throat. 

‘She’d love all of this.’ His glance made a broad sweep of the church. ‘She’s with us in spirit.’ He found my hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘Your mother’s walking back down the aisle. I’d better go see what the delay is.’ 

He moved quickly and led Mother back to her seat. The church was packed with five hundred people all in their finest. Between John and me we might know half of them, but only a hundred could be called friends. My parents had splashed out, and I hadn’t the heart to rein them in. After all, this was their one chance. I was their only child now, and had been for eighteen years. It was all I could do. They would never see Rose’s wedding day, so mine was their only chance to throw a big party. 

My parents stood beside the front pew with their heads together. Around them the congregation buzzed with hushed discussions. The simple lines of the church were obscured with all the decorations. No detail had been too small for Mother’s attention. 

I closed my eyes, wondering what was up. I fiddled with my charm bracelet. The hump on the camel should have been worn off because of all the times I had rubbed it, wishing that Rose were still with me. Seven years my senior, I had adored her. If she were here, if the kidney disease hadn’t killed her, I wouldn’t be nervous and Mother wouldn’t be fussing. 

The music changed and I opened my eyes. Where was Dad? Shouldn’t we be walking down the aisle? Searching the church, I found him settling Mother. He pressed a kiss to her temple and began to pull away. 

A car drew up to the bottom of the church steps and I recognised the thick ankle that was emerging. I dashed to help Great-Aunt Agnes out of the car. She batted me away with her walking stick as her driver came round to help. 

‘I’m pleased I’m not late.’ She grabbed the other stick from the driver and made for the steps. I walked beside her, ready to steady her. She was ninety-four and still lived independently, despite everyone except me trying to push her into a home. 

‘No need to fuss, Jude.’ She turned to me. ‘I’ve managed to stay alive until your wedding day, so I can damn well make my own way into the church.’ 

I loved her spirit. Despite Agnes’ insistence on walking in alone, I glanced about for one of the ushers. It wasn’t tradition for a bride to seat her guests, but Agnes was special, so I might risk Mother’s ire and do just that. 

We reached the church door and she took a few breaths while she studied me from head to toe. ‘Nice shoes. Ghastly dress. Your mother’s choice, I expect. She’s always got her own way.’ I opened my mouth to reply but then shut it. 

‘You’re a dear girl, but have always been too biddable for my taste. Keep wondering where the Warren backbone is in you.’ Her voice rang out, and I wondered if she had forgotten to turn on her hearing aids. I placed a hand on her arm. ‘Mind you, your father seems to be missing it too. Your mother’s always had him by the balls, from what I can tell.’ 

I glanced around, hoping that no one could hear her over the organ. Clasping her elbow, I began to lead her into the church when Sophie’s boyfriend Tim came to my rescue. ‘Handsome boy.’ Agnes took his arm, then turned to me and winked. 

I back-stepped to the lobby, feeling Mother’s wrath as her gaze burned into me. A drop of sweat trickled down my bolstered cleavage. A breeze swept past, stirring the delicate birch leaves. Only a thunderstorm could relieve the oppressive atmosphere. 

Peering down the aisle, I caught a glimpse of John standing with his best man. He looked so distant, so formal. His glance met mine and he smiled. It would be all right. Nerves were normal. 

‘Hasn’t Jane done well with Judith marrying John? This is what she’s been trying to achieve for years.’ A woman spoke over the music. 

‘I know. The Stewarts are such a good family, and he’s already a partner in the firm. But I have to say I still wonder what he sees in the Warren girl. She’s nothing like Jane, has none of her style. Jane did well to marry her off.’ They looked at my mother as she resumed her seat at the front. 

I didn’t know either woman, but they knew me, or more precisely, Mother. Mother had been over the moon when I had begun dating John, and thinking about it now, moving me towards this day from that moment. Was John my choice or hers? 

The bouquet I held reached the floor with its cascade and, almost as if I weren’t really there, I watched my hands tremble so much that I dropped the candyfloss mess. One of the flower girls dived to retrieve it and I extended my hand, looking at the artful design of the arrangement. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t me. This whole thing was wrong. I dropped my hand, then I ran as fast as my shoes would let me, never looking back. 

The incoming tide lapped over my red toenails and wet the brilliant white froth of my wedding gown. Tears caused it all to blur to pink, reminding me of the wretched lilies. That was hours ago, and now the salty water of the Gulf Stream had removed the stiffness from the skirt so that it collapsed against my legs. Finally I felt at peace with the damn dress. 

A seagull dive-bombed into the water. I wiped my eyes so that I could see if it was successful. It was, and I smiled. At least someone had gotten what he wanted. But then, the gull knew what it wanted, and I hadn’t. Big difference. I had only discovered what I hadn’t wanted at the worst possible moment. It was an effort to stand. My legs had gone a bit dead. I’d lost count of how long I’d been sitting staring at the water. It didn’t hold any answers, and now I had to go back and face everyone. The sun had set, and by rights I should be on my way to Boston for my wedding night, then onto Maine to start my honeymoon, not standing by an empty lifeguard tower. 

Looking at the sea again, the enormity of what I’d done hit me. I needed to talk to John, but I had no words, or none that could begin to make amends for what I had done to him. 

I brushed the sand off as best I could, wishing I had a phone. All I had was a soaking dress, a veil and a useless pair of highheeled shoes. My progress across the beach was slow. The dress hindered my movement. It hadn’t been light to begin with, but Mother had been so excited, and I’d wanted to make her happy if I could. In a way, this was to have been her day as much as mine. 

My legs ached. The walk felt endless. A car’s horn sounded as it whooshed past me. I knew I looked a sight, and the sooner I could change the better. The house came into view and I stopped. 

The flowerbeds at the front of the house were a riot of colour with the orange Hemerocallis, or daylilies, shouting for attention over the soft tones of the white peonies. Dad had thrown his heart and soul into making sure the garden would be beautiful for my day. My day ... I squeezed my eyes shut. Those happy moments when John and I had worked with Dad seemed ages ago, but it was only a few weeks. 

Caterers came out, and I hid in the shadow of a large pine. Once they’d gone back inside, I limped onto the lawn and studied the one constant in what had been my peripatetic life: a weatherboard house with dark green shutters. We had come here every summer, and when Dad retired it had become our permanent home. I didn’t want to go in. Mother would be in a state; and why wouldn’t she? 

Standing by the house, it appeared so peaceful, but that could be deceptive. It didn’t look as if it was on the water from this angle, but it was. From here it could be in the woods, but walk through the door and the house opened out to reveal Eel River. It was originally built by my great-grandfather as a summer cabin in the 1920s when summer cabins were ambitious, with room for servants, and you came to Cape Cod on the train with steamer trunks. 

I had let all of them down, past and present, by not walking up the aisle. Everything was so clear in my mind, but how could I explain to everyone without hurting them more? Now, hours later, I was facing what I’d done as lights shone out of all the windows of the house. It looked happy. It was dressed for a party, my party, and I hadn’t turned up until it was over. The cost of the whole thing made my eyes water. 

Pushing aside these thoughts, I knew that what held me in the shadows was not fear of Mother’s huge displeasure, but of Dad’s disappointment. How was I going to explain to my rock why I had bolted? 

I moved towards my car. It was parked out of the way, waiting for my return from honeymoon. What was John doing? Getting drunk, I should imagine. That sounded appealing, but before I could do that, or anything else, I needed to get out of this damn dress. As quietly as I could, I moved to the side door where the sounds of chairs being stacked and orders given almost drowned out my mother’s voice. I stood still and listened. 

‘What was that child thinking?’ Her English accent was always more pronounced when she was angry. Her words carried on the night air. 

Child? Thirty is not a child. I began to walk out of the shadows, but stopped as she continued. 

‘Such stupidity.’ 

‘Jane.’ Dad cut her off. 

‘Leaving John at the altar was such an overdramatic, asinine thing to do.’ Mother paused. ‘Did you see Mary’s face? There was her beloved son, standing at the altar looking like a fool and our daughter was the cause. I doubt they will ever speak to us again.’ 

‘It was terrible.’ Dad’s voice broke. 

‘I’ve never been more embarrassed in my entire life.’ Jane sighed. ‘I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to show my face again.’ 

I couldn’t see my father, and whether he agreed with her or not. ‘You’re tired. You put so much work into making this day wonderful for her.’ His voice trailed away. ‘Where the hell is she?’ 

Jane sighed. ‘I’m sure she’s fine and thinking only of herself, and not of John or his parents or even us. Hasn’t that always been the way with her? I’m so disappointed.’ 

‘Me too.’ 

‘Rose would never have done this. She was so thoughtful, and not at all selfish.’ Jane sobbed. 

I remained in the shadows. I couldn’t move. Mother’s words echoed in my head. She was right. Rose would never have done this.

Title: The Cherry Tree Café

Author: Heidi Swain

Published: August 4th 2015 by Simon & Schuster UK

Amazon | Amazon UK

Blurb: Cupcakes, crafting and love at The Cherry Tree Cafe... Lizzie Dixon's life feels as though it's fallen apart. Instead of the marriage proposal she was hoping for from her boyfriend, she is unceremoniously dumped, and her job is about to go the same way. So, there's only one option: to go back home to the village she grew up in and to try to start again.

Her best friend Jemma is delighted Lizzie has come back home. She has just bought a little cafe and needs help in getting it ready for the grand opening. And Lizzie's sewing skills are just what she needs.

With a new venture and a new home, things are looking much brighter for Lizzie. But can she get over her broken heart, and will an old flame reignite a love from long ago...?

For everyone who loves settling down to watch Great British Bake-Off, the Great British Sewing Bee, or curling up to read Milly Johnson or Jenny Colgan, The Cherry Tree Cafe is a coffee-break treat.

Review: When I first read The Cherry Tree Cafe's blurb, I knew it was my kind of read. I love baking and crafting so the promise of both mixed with a bit of romance is my idea of a perfect story. And after finishing it I can tell you that I was not wrong. As soon as I stepped into The Cherry Tree Cafe I felt like home. Even if when we first read about it, it still needs a bit of work, I completely fell in love with it through Lizzie's eyes. Actually, Lizzie's ideas and concepts to renovate it were some of my favourite bits of the story. 

But story behind this book is so much more than the renovation of the little Cafe. When we meet Lizzie, she is expecting a proposal from her rich boyfriend. Which doesn't happen, at all. Instead she is bumped and given that she moved to London for him and got her job thanks to him, she finds herself in quite an awkward situation. But soon she realises, as we do too as readers, that she never fitted in this shiny luxurious life and goes back home to her friend's place to start over. Jemma is the kind of friend we would love to have in our lives. The friendship between these two is really well developed and believable and I enjoyed reading their interactions a lot. But the star of the story is Jemma's little girl, Ella. She always had something to comment on and was usually spot on.  

But Jemma and her family are not the only ones waiting for Lizzie in her hometown. Her neurotic mother (imagine Judy Geller from Friends), an old high school rival, her old job and an old flame are all waiting for Lizzie too. Which make her return a bit more complicated and give the story quite a lot of drama. There certainly were a couple of twists that I didn't expect at all and there was a moment when I really had no idea where the story was going to go. So good for Heidi Swain for having the ability to surprise me.

The Cherry Tree Cafe is Heidi's debut and she has showed us her great potential. She certainly is one author to watch. I highly recommend The Cherry Tree Cafe to baking and crafting lovers as there are so many ideas to take from the book. I think I'll leave now to go make some bunting, Lizzie's style!

Rating: 

Hi Saskia and welcome to Alba in Bookland. First of all could you tell us a bit about yourself: Thanks for inviting me! I live in London with my partner and my four (grown-up) children, plus a menagerie of animals: 3 dogs, 2 cats and a leopard gecko. I used to work as a Health & Beauty editor on women’s magazines; I’ve also been a ghostwriter and script reader. I’ve always loved writing, and wanted to make it my career, so I feel very lucky to be doing this. I also love dancing, tango in particular, and looking after creatures, hence the number of animals and children in my life…

In your latest book, The Other Me, the main role is hiding a big secret and is living a lie. How did you come up with this idea? Any big secrets in your life you want to share with us? If I told you the secret, it would no longer be one! Seriously, I’m fascinated with identity, and the issues around it. I’ve just been listening to the radio and there was a piece about people who role-play and escape into being fantasy characters at the weekend. So many of them said they only felt like ‘themselves’ when they were dressing up and pretending to be someone else. Of course, in Klaudia’s case, she is also running away from a sense of inherited guilt and her repressive childhood.

The Other Me has a stunning cover that I think will catch everyone's attention. What was your reaction when you first saw it? Thanks! I was thrilled when I saw it. I love everything about it: the colours, the design, and the sense of darkness gathering around the beautiful pink of the tutu and the pale skin of the dancer…

Which 3 words would you use to describe the story behind The Other Me? Dark and layered, (like the best chocolate cake) and also kind.

How does your writing process go? Do you plan everything first or you just start writing and let your characters talk to you? I usually begin with the spark of an idea, and the nascent sense of a character or two. Then I begin to piece a story together in my mind – always character-led. After that the process is different for every book. 

The Other Me is your third book already. Did you find writing your second and third novel more difficult than your first, after its success? Or have you learned from your "mistakes"? I hope I improve as I go along. Each book is a huge learning-curve. I was incredibly lucky to have a lot of media attention and the Richard and Judy Bookclub with The Twins, my debut novel. It can’t always be that way. (It was a bit like actually being pregnant with twins, and having the red carpet treatment! I saw the consultant every time and everyone made a fuss. Then I had my son, and found out what it was like for most pregnant women.)The important thing for me is that I do the best I can with the story I’m telling. I’m always focused on whatever I’m writing now.

Do you remember the first story you ever wrote and what it was about? I began telling my younger sister stories when I was about six. One that she liked a lot involved a girl who couldn’t walk and her toy pony that came to life every night and took her on wonderful adventures.

If you could have a party with your favourite authors, dead or alive, who would you invite? I’d resurrect some really iconic authors for my party – people like Shakespeare, John Donne, Oscar Wilde, Jane Austen, Ezra Pound and Anne Frank. 

And finally, what are you working on now? I’m working on a book that’s a little different from my others in that it has a stronger thriller strand – but it also has an emotional heart. It’s called The Stranger and it’s set in an idyllic English village where one woman puts herself at risk by trusting a stranger who evokes suspicion in everyone else. As the story unravels we realize that the village is not as idyllic as it first seems, and our heroine has been betrayed by someone, but is it her would-be lover, her dead husband or the stranger to whom she’s opened her home and her heart?

Thank you Saskia for sharing a bit more about yourself and your stories with us. I really enjoyed your answers.

About the book:

Blurb: Eliza Bennett has the life she's always dreamed of.She's who she wants to be, and she's with the man she loves.

But Eliza is living a lie. Her real name is Klaudia Meyer.

And Klaudia is on the run. She's escaping her old life, and a terrible secret buried at the heart of her family.

This is the story of Eliza and Klaudia - one girl, two lives and a lie they cannot hide from.

Psychological and suspenseful: the gripping story of one girl living a double life.

From rising star Saskia Sarginson, author of The Twins and Without You.

Review: When I first picked up The Other Me, I had no idea what to the expect. The blurb doesn't give much away and only reading it I thought it would be kind of a psychological thriller. But soon, I realised that this story was so much more than I first thought and not so "thrillery". The first thing that surprised me was that Eliza is really young, still a university student when we meet her (although she has dropped her degree and is following a career in dancing, her true passion). I don't know why I expected her to be older. Anyway, I instantly felt drawn to her. I wanted to know more about her and why she had decided to leave her life as Klaudia behind.

What followed was a real beautifully written complex tale about identity, family and finding yourself in this big confusing world. Thanks to flashbacks we get to read about Klaudia/Eliza's childhood. A very difficult one, that is. She was bullied when she started high school for being the daughter of a German as everyone thought he was a Nazi. Klaudia, who had been home schooled until then, was quite naive and actually have no idea about her father's past so soon adopted some misconceptions about him and his life and started counting the days until she could leave him and her old life behind. I found this topic really interesting to read, especially through young Klaudia's eyes. Her story truly captured me and made me think a lot about identity and what defines a person, their upbringing and surroundings or the choices they make...

Also, I was positively surprised to see that the story had a third narrator (if you count Klaudia and Eliza as two different ones) in Ernst, Klaudia's uncle. I love reading historical fiction and Ernst's chapters are set in Prewar Germany and also during the war and tell the story of him and Klaudia's father. A story I found really interesting in its own but that also had clear links to the present. This search for the feeling of belonging and how we see ourselves through other's eyes. 

I can say that I thoughtfully enjoyed The Other Me from cover to cover and that it really got to me in some moments. Saskia's style was captivating and involving. While reading this story, I couldn't think of anything else. Klaudia's story (and also Ernst's) is one I won't forget in a long time. A highly recommended read for me. 

Have you missed any stops on the Blog Tour? 

Blurb: Freya Moorcroft has wild red hair, mischievous green eyes, a warm smile and a heart of gold. She’s been happy working at the café round the corner from Ivy Lane allotments and her romance with her new boyfriend is going well, she thinks, but a part of her still misses the beautiful rolling hills of her Cumbrian childhood home: Appleby Farm.

Then a phone call out of the blue and a desperate plea for help change everything…

The farm is in financial trouble, and it’s taking its toll on the aunt and uncle who raised Freya. Heading home to lend a hand, Freya quickly learns that things are worse than she first thought. As she summons up all her creativity and determination to turn things around, Freya is surprised as her own dreams for the future begin to take shape.

Love makes the world go round, according to Freya. Not money. But will saving Appleby Farm and following her heart come at a price?

Review: Is it just me or are Cathy Bramley's books just getting better and better? God, I really did enjoy Ivy Lane at the beginning of the year (it's on my top ten of books for the first half of the year) but let me tell you, I enjoyed Appleby Farm even more! Cathy has the ability to create such homely and stunning surroundings that they just make you feel part of the story. In this case, we go to Appleby Farm by the hand of lovely and lively Freya Moorcroft. A character we already met in Ivy Lane, even if briefly. Appleby Farm really stole my heart in this story. I could easily picture those fields bathed by the sun with the lazy heard rummaging around. *Sighs* I want a vacation in the Lake District right now.

And Freya couldn't be a better leading role. Her positive attitude and enthusiasm were contagious and I soon found myself cheering for her and her big ideas. Plus, her uncle and aunt were the cutest old couple ever. They were going through really tough times to keep the farm afloat but their love for it and farming in general never faltered. 

Also, how cool was it to catch up again with some of our beloved character from Ivy Lane? Fantastic dot com Gemma, her mum, the lovely Tilly and gorgeous Aidan, they all had their guest appearances! A real treat for us readers. And let's not forget Charlie, the fireman! He is Freya's boyfriend when we start the story and they share some really special moments together. Although I have to admit that I never was a big fan of Charlie in Ivy Lane. He was a bit like a big (spoiled) child. Here, we see him in a whole new light and I think the role he plays in Freya's life is very supportive and mature. He still has his childish moments though. 

Appleby Farm is a great read that has a really positive vibe around it. I was grinning non-stop during the whole book and it left me with a content heart. Well, I have to admit that Cathy made me suffer a bit with Appleby Farm's future. There was so much drama surrounding the farm and its inhabitants! I really had no idea how it was going to end (I certainly didn't expect how it was resolved at the end) but with Freya's optimism and efforts and a bit of help of chatty Lizzie (loved her, by the way) and gorgeous Harry, I was sure we could have the perfect happy ending, and boy did we! Just perfect.

Another hit from Cathy Bramley, Appleby Farm is a beautiful story about family, finding one self and love. It goes directly to my list of favourite reads of the year, next to Ivy Lane. I can't wait to start Cathy's latest serialised novel, Wickham Hall, right now. 

This is my grandmother, Mary’s, recipe. She used to make these when she had her ladies’ coffee evenings and she always seemed to have a box of them in the fridge whenever I went round to visit her. They are absolutely delicious but very rich so cut them into small squares.

You will need . . .

225g dark chocolate

125g glace cherries

125g sultanas (or mixed fruit if that’s what you’ve got)

Follow the Blog Tour: 

Blurb: Rule 1: Never ask him on a first date. Rule 2: Laugh admiringly at all his jokes. Rule 3: Always leave him wanting more.

. . . wtf?!

Have you heard of The Rules of Engagement? It's a book that promises to teach you to find the man of your dreams in ten easy steps. Unsurprisingly, I don't own a copy. What is it, 1892?

But I'm a journalist, and I've promised to follow it to the letter and write about the results. Nevermind that my friends think I'm insane, I'm stalking men all over town and can't keep my mouth shut at the best of times.

My name is Cat Buchanan. I'm thirty-six years old and live with my daughter in Glasgow. I've been single for six years, but that's about to change. After all, I'm on a deadline.

I Followed the Rules and this is what happened.

First of all I would like to thank the publishers for sending me a copy of this book via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.*

Rating: 

Blurb: First class is about to get dangerous... Pure Air's new LuxeLiner is flying from London to LA - its inaugural journey - with a first-class cabin packed with A List celebrities. As the feuding crew compete to impress their famous passengers, the handsome pilot tries to win the attention of a pretty young stewardess. But one VIP singer is battling something seriously sinister: watching her every step is a very determined stalker, someone who will go to any lengths to get the star to satisfy their desires. At thirty thousand feet there is nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide...

First of all I would like to thank the publishers for sending me a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.*

Review: Mile High is my first book by Rebecca Chance, but I had heard great things about her previous books so I was really excited to start it. The first that caught my attention in this book was its third person narrative. It was told from multiple points of views but it had a bit of an impersonal touch, so it was difficult for me to really connect with the characters. I felt, at the beginning, as if I was reading a very long magazine article rather than a book. But once I got used to this style and started knowing all the key characters better, I started enjoying the story a lot more. And I have to admit that with this narrative, it was totally impossible to guess who the stalker was, so Rebecca managed to keep me wondering until the very last minute.

You might think that a whole book set inside a plane during a flight from London to Los Angeles can get a bit boring but it couldn't be further from the truth. Rebecca packs the flight with a bast and diverse cast of characters that keeps us entertained through the (long) story. With so many cabin crew members and celebrities aboard it took me a while to get who was who and what their role in the main story was. But above all, my favourite character was definitely the mega star Catalina. She takes the main role in the story, basically because she is the one stalked, and thanks to multiple flashbacks, we get to know her and her story, so I really warmed up to her. She seemed a really genuine person with high standards even if a bit fragile at times. She was the star of the book.

But the stalker story line is not the only one going on during this flight. Romance, scandal, envies, jealousy... they all have their own role. With a really bitchy flight attendant and her entourage, a flirty self-centered pilot, a chef more preoccupied for the staff than for the food and an oscar-nominated actress with a big secret, there's enough drama to fill several books. Oh, and don't forget the sexy scenes (plane toilets are there for something, aren't they?). Even if one of the scenes made me laugh out loud after discovering the chef "big" secret (curious, aren't you?).

Even if the first half of the book was quite slow paced, the second part picked up speed and soon there were so many things going on that it was difficult to keep pace. I really enjoyed the mystery surrounding the stalker and built up to the discovery of who they were. I actually was pretty impressed with the ending and Rebecca managed to wrap up all the story lines quite well. Even if I didn't enjoy some of these sub plots as much as I would have wanted, Mile High is quite an entertaining, intriguing and sexy story that I recommend you enjoy in a sun lounger and, of course, with a good cocktail.

Rating: 3,5/5

Gingerbread families from The Art of Baking Blind

“Today…she is making biscuits just for the hell of it. And not just any dull cookies, but the most childish and evocative of biscuits – baked, not to impress, but to provoke a smile of utter joy. Plump, chewy and brown. Glinting with sugar. Studded with dark raisin buttons and eyes.”

The Art of Baking Blind, my novel about why we bake, is stuffed with recipes that have emotional resonance but if there’s one that sums up the spirit of the book it’s for gingerbread girls and boys. Easy to make and personalise, they encapsulate the novel’s theme of nurture and of baking at the heart of the family.

Kathleen Eaden, the 1960s cookery writer whose The Art of Baking informs the novel’s baking contest, is seen making them for her niece and nephew, while Vicki – a contestant in the contemporary story – bakes them with Alfie, her three-year-old son. At one point she asks him if he wants to make gingerbread or cupcakes:

““Gingerbread men.” He is emphatic. It is the option he goes for, without fail.

“How did I guess?”

“Always gingerbread.”

“Always gingerbread,” she agrees.”

I came up with the idea of this novel as I baked with my own small children – making cupcakes and, yes, gingerbread families - my little boy picking out the small boy and girl cutters and enjoying making biscuits that were smaller, and therefore easier to hold. In our local bakery, they are sold with eyes piped on with icing and with smartie buttons but the traditional gingerbread men – and the ones we make – use raisins. There are various different recipes but this is a Tate & Lyle golden syrup one:

Ingredients: 

350g plain flour

1 tsp bicarbonate of soda

2 tsp ground ginger

115g butter, diced

175g Light Brown Soft Sugar

4 level tbsp Golden Syrup

1 medium egg, beaten

2 tbsp milk

Raisins for eyes

Method

1. Preheat the oven to 190C/170Cfan/gas 5. Sift together the flour, bicarbonate of soda and ginger. Add the butter and rub in until it resembles fine breadcrumbs. Stir in the light brown soft sugar.

2. In a small bowl beat together the golden syrup, egg and milk. Stir into the dry ingredients and mix to a dough, Turn out onto a floured surface and knead until smooth.

3. Roll the mixture out on a lightly floured surface to about 5mm thick and using a gingerbread cutter cut out 12 gingerbread men and carefully transfer to baking trays lined with parchment paper.

4. Decorate the biscuits with raisins for eyes and bake for 12-15 minutes until golden. Allow to cool slightly and harden before transferring to a wire rack to cool completely.

5. They will store in an airtight container for up to a week but I doubt they’ll last that long!

Thank you Sarah for sharing this special recipe for us. I cannot wait to try it myself.

About the book:

Read my Review of The Art of Baking Blind here!

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