Cathy Bramley "Conditional Love" Blog Tour Continues

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About The Book

 

Meet Sophie Stone, a thirty-something serial procrastinator. Tesco knickers, Take That and tea with two sugars is about as exciting as it gets. Sophie’s life is safe and predictable, which is just the way she likes it, thank you very much.

But when her boyfriend dumps her on Valentine’s Day and a mysterious benefactor leaves her an inheritance, Sophie has to accept that change is afoot. There is a catch: in order to inherit, Sophie must agree to meet the father she has never seen.

With interference from an evil boss, bickering flat mates, warring parents and a sexy ex-boyfriend, Sophie has plenty to contend with without an architect who puts his foot in it every time he opens his mouth.

She will have to face the past and learn some uncomfortable home truths before she can finally build a future on her own terms.

 

Meet The Author

Visit Her Website

 

 

 

Cathy Bramley is a British author of women’s feel-good fiction. Conditional Love, a romantic comedy is her debut novel. Her new title, Ivy Lane is being serialized as four ebooks this year and will be released as a paperback in 2015.

Cathy has spent most of her working career in the crazy world of marketing. After graduating from University in Nottingham, she plunged herself into corporate world, working on high-powered projects such as testing the firing range of SuperSoaker water guns and perfecting the weeing action of Tiny Tears. In 1995  she set up her own marketing agency, Apples & Pears Marketing, but now most of her marketing activities involve promoting her books.

She lives in an idyllic Nottinghamshire village with her husband, two daughters and a dog called Pearl.

 

Guest Post

Grand Designs on Writing My First Book! 

Thank you so much, Barbara for taking part in the Conditional Love CLP Blog Tour and allowing me to write a guest post for your blog!

Conditional Love is my debut novel and as such I decided to keep things simple for myself and write about something I know – property development.

In Conditional Love, the main character, Sophie, inherits a run down bungalow in a small village on the outskirts of Nottinghamshire. Well, that happened to me – or should I say, my husband, when his father suddenly passed away.

 

 

In our case there was no mystery inheritance and no condition in the will, however, we did decide to develop the property and in fact we demolished the little bungalow and built a house ourselves on the site.

 

 

Does Sophie go on to build the house of her dreams? You’ll have to read the book to find out, but I can tell you that the book isn’t the least bit auto-biographical!

 

Sophie and I do share one passion though and that is the British TV show Grand Designs.

 

 

 

The show is mentioned throughout the book. I know that there is an Australian version, but I don’t think it has ever made it to the USA. Grand Designs is fabulous programme which has been running for years.  It follows self-builders from the start of their project right through until they move into their dream home. In fact, the show has become so popular that there is a monthly magazine accompanying the series as well as two large national exhibitions every year. My husband and I attended a couple of these shows when we were planning our own house build and they were amazing.

Each TV episode is usually packed with drama: things go wrong with the build or the home owners run out of money or fall out with the workmen! But what I love about it is the creativity that these people have and the determination to pursue their dreams. Of course, it nearly always turns out right in the end.

And for an author who loves happy endings, what more could I want from a TV show!

 

 

Extract from Chapter four 

In the centre of the desk, lay an open file. I shuffled forward to the edge of my seat and managed to read my own name at the top of the page. I inched closer still, squinting to read more.

‘And you are?’

The deep voice made me jump so much that I panicked, slid off the chair and down onto one knee, thus greeting the tall, thin man with dark hair, glasses and a bushy beard in some sort of weird marriage proposal stance.

I scrambled up off the floor, mortified, and sat back down. ‘Nothing! Just waiting for Mr Whelan.’

His lips twitched and he gave his beard a scratch.

‘I’m Thomas Whelan.’ He extended a hand towards me. ‘And you are?’

‘Oh! Sophie Stone.’ I shook his hand and pulled up the collar of my coat to hide my glowing cheeks.

‘Ah yes,’ he said settling himself at his desk. He glanced at the file that I’d had been trying to read. ‘You’ve come about your aunt’s will.’

I processed this new information, hitherto unaware I had an aunt. Alive or dead.

‘My aunt?’

Mr Whelan blinked furiously, referred back to the manila file and adjusted his glasses.

‘My apologies, Miss Stone, your great aunt.’

Well that was that then. She had to be one of my father’s relations. There were definitely no great aunts in Mum’s family. There was no one at all in her family. I sighed. I had been hoping… well, I wasn’t sure exactly what I’d been hoping. Maybe that she was an old lady I’d done a good deed for once when I was in the Brownies or something. Although, I couldn’t think what I’d done to warrant a mention in anybody’s will.

But any tenuous link would be better than being a relative of Terry Stone’s. Still, I’d better be absolutely sure.

‘Would you mind just running me through the family tree?’

‘Of course not,’ said Mr Whelan, pushing his chair back and standing up abruptly. ‘But first, have you brought your passport?’

I jumped to my feet too.  ‘Why? Where are we going?’ I had been told on the phone to bring my passport when I arranged the appointment and the request had been troubling me ever since.

‘Only to the photocopier,’ he chuckled. ‘Need to verify you are who you say you are before we continue with the reading of the will.’

Thank heavens for small mercies! I had had visions of having to jump on a plane at a moment’s notice to take ownership of some mystery item.

Identity checks complete, we resumed our positions either side of the desk. The solicitor took off his wristwatch, set it to one side and then, elbows on the desk, clasped his hands together and made a steeple with his forefingers, resting his long nose on the tip.

‘This office holds the last will and testament of Mrs Jane Kennedy. She was Terence Stone’s maternal aunt. Your great aunt.’

I stared at him, mesmerised by the end of his nose which was protruding over his fingers.

I should stop him from going any further. There was no point in hearing what he had to say. My father had been absent for all of my thirty- two years. Mum and I had managed perfectly well without his or his family’s help, thank you very much and I knew instinctively that she would resent any intervention at this stage in the game. Besides, why would the old dear leave anything to me? It didn’t make sense, we’d never even met.

‘Long and tedious documents, wills.’

My eyes must have glazed over for a moment. I shook myself and Mr Whelan’s eyes twinkled at me.

‘There’s been a misunderstanding,’ I said, scooping up my bag as I stood. ‘My mother is estranged from her ex-husband. I’ve never met Jane Kennedy; in fact, I’ve never met my father.’

‘I’m aware of all that,’ he said, not unkindly. ‘However, it falls to me to ensure that you are fully informed as to your inheritance. Please sit.’ He flapped a hand at the empty chair. ‘Would you like me to read the whole thing or cut to the chase?’

I blinked my green eyes at him. Was he allowed to say things like that? I sat back down obediently.

‘The main bits, please.’

‘Righto.’ Mr Whelan extracted a document and a small sealed envelope from the file. He pushed his glasses up his nose and cleared his throat. I held my breath.

‘Your great aunt Jane has bequeathed the bulk of her estate to you. You, Miss Stone are the main beneficiary of her will.’

An estate! Visions of strolling through manicured gardens like someone out of Pride and Predjudice, against a backdrop of a Chatsworth-style mansion, on Marc’s arm, were somewhat dimmed with Mr Whelan’s next sentence.

‘There’s a bungalow in Woodby and several thousand pounds. We haven’t finalised the amount yet.’

Woodby? That was a village in the sticks somewhere north of Nottingham. A bungalow and some money. I repeated the words in my head. That was a house and some actual money-in-the-bank type dosh.

My chest had been getting tighter and tighter with lack of oxygen and now I was all panicky. Breathe, Sophie, in out, in out. I probably looked like I was in labour: face all red, and puffing like Ivor the engine.

A house. My great aunt had given me a house. Of my own. And that meant a home. How long had I been dreaming of my own home? Only all my life, that was how long.

Mr Whelan’s lips were moving. He was still speaking and I hadn’t been listening. He was holding an envelope out to me and I took it automatically.

‘As I say, there is a condition to the inheritance, but I think it would be better if you read Mrs Kennedy’s letter yourself. I’ll leave you in private for a moment. Can I get you some coffee?’

‘Tea please, two sugars.’

Condition? I wasn’t sure I could take any more surprises. Life was so much gentler without them. My heart rate was already registering at least a seven on the Richter scale.

‘Actually, make it three!’

 

Links

 

Twitter  @cathybramley

 

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Blog Tour: A Questionable Friendship by Samantha March (excerpt, giveaway) Day Two

Blog Tour And Giveaway

 

Follow the blog tour and click here for links to the daily sites. Enter giveaway for a $25 Amazon gift card to be announced by Samantha March on April 22. Form below.

 

 

 

Buy at Amazon, Barnes&Noble, Kobo

 

About The Book:

 

Brynne Ropert and Portland Dolish have been best friends since being paired as roommates in college. Seven years later they are now twenty-five, married, and living in Maine–– but the two women couldn’t be more different. Brynne finds fulfillment in her life as a wife, mother and owner of a small café and bookshop, but is struggling to expand her family. Portland is still coping with her mother’s death during her childhood, and her marriage is unraveling before her eyes. Portland envies her friend’s seemingly stable and easy life while Brynne doesn’t understand the growing distance between them and cannot begin to guess what secret Portland is hiding about her husband and crumbling marriage. While one woman feels shut out, the other enters into a web of lies to protect herself.  

A Questionable Friendship explores what really makes someone a true friend, a support system, a sister. How much trust goes into a friendship and when is being a friend not enough? Brynne and Portland’s story will attempt to answer those questions, and show that happily ever after isn’t in the cards for everyone.

Excerpt

 

I lay in bed by myself that night, as Trent said he still had some reports to look at. I flipped onto my stomach, my favorite sleeping position, and tried to will myself to sleep. But my mind wouldn’t shut off. I flashed to the papers I found in Trent’s desk last night, purely on accident. I had never thought to snoop on my husband of two years. I was trying to find our tax returns from last year to give to the accountant, as we were severely behind and the April deadline was just around the corner. I had tried calling Trent to see where they were, but his phone was going to straight to voicemail. I knew he was driving home and sometimes his service cut in and out, so I didn’t think anything of it. I decided to find the papers myself, mostly out of boredom and the need to do something. 

Trent’s office in our 2200 square foot ranch home was on the first floor, all the way to the east. I rarely ventured in there as I had no reason too, only popping in when Trent was working. It felt a little foreign being there, but I sat at his desk chair and looked around me. His desk wasn’t just some shoddy little thing tucked into the corner, no, the desk ran almost the full length of the wall, big enough for three people to easily fit at. He had one desktop computer set up and a laptop as well, and he carried yet another laptop with him on business trips. A printer that doubled as a scanner sat on one corner, and a fax machine on another. He had multiple calendars hung up with agendas scribbled on the majority of the dates, and another smaller calendar that sat to the right of the desktop. It was opened to that date, March 14, and scribbled on there was “Petosi.” He had been in that town for the past two nights, and was due home late in the night. 

After some searching, I finally found the drawer that seemed to hold important records. Our passports were in there, our wedding license, birth certificates, and deed to the house. I found the titles to both our vehicles, but no tax information. I frowned, trying to think of another spot he would have them. I slipped all the papers back in the appropriate files and shut the drawer, and when I did, a single piece of paper had floated down to me, from somewhere at the top of the desk. I grabbed the sheet and read over the words, my eyes growing wide, then squinting as I read and re-read. My body turned cold as I sat in shock, trying to process what I had read. When I realized I’d been sitting there for probably thirty minutes doing absolutely nothing I jumped, understanding that Trent could walk through the door at any minute and find me. Then what would I say? 

Carefully, I pushed myself up and climbed onto the office chair, putting the piece of paper back where I thought it had come from. From my new vantage point, I saw the top of his desk was riddled with other papers and…a calendar. I swallowed hard as I peered closer and saw what was written in under March 13. My stomach heaving, I quickly left the office after righting the chair to its original spot, and fled to the bathroom. 

I blinked back tears in bed as I forced myself to calm my mind. Trent had some explaining to do sure, but how did I tell him what I had found? Did that really even matter in the grand scheme of things? But knowing the Trent as of lately, he would try to turn this around on me and make me look like the bad person. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for sleep. I just wanted to sleep, to forget about what I had found. The day had been torturous enough, trying to make everything seem like it was hunky dory and nothing out of place. And what would tomorrow bring? More questions. And next week – Trent would be gone for two weeks. Would he be going where he said he was? What was he actually doing on his trips away? 

The bedroom door opened and I saw Trent enter the room, already in just his boxers. I let my breathing become even so he would think I was asleep. 

He plugged his cell phone in and set it on the nightstand, then pulled the covers back and crawled in. I felt his cold feet touch mine and jerked involuntarily. “Are you awake?” he whispered. I could feel his erection pressing into my back, and knew what he wanted. He probably touched me on purpose. 

“Mmmph,” I mumbled, not opening my eyes. 

“Port. You awake?” he asked again, clearly not getting the hint as his hand wandered to my breast. 

I rolled away and made more sleeping noises, begging in my mind for him to leave me alone. He stayed quiet for another moment, then finally rolled the other way. 

I was off the hook – at least for one night.

 

About The Author

 

Samantha March is an author, editor, publisher, blogger, and all around book lover. She runs the popular book/women’s lifestyle blog ChickLitPlus, which keeps her bookshelf stocked with the latest reads and up to date on all things health, fitness, fashion, and celebrity related. In 2011 she launched her independent publishing company Marching Ink and has three published novels – Destined to Fail, The Green Ticket, and A Questionable Friendship. When she isn’t reading, writing, or blogging, you can find her cheering for the Green Bay Packers. Samantha lives in Iowa with her husband and Vizsla puppy.

Why I started Marching Ink. 

When I first decided I was going to self-publish my debut novel Destined to Fail, I quickly realized that I wanted to go about it in a big way. I looked into the requirements of buying a LLC (Limited Liability Company) and within that week had a framed copy of my license in my office. My idea was to start an independent publishing company. My love of books has no limit. When I was going through the publishing process, I saw how overwhelming it can be. Not only all the finances involved, but the decisions on hiring editors and proofreaders, cover designers and book formatters. Then the marketing that is involved and how to elbow your way in the crowd online to talk about you and your book. I thought I already had some resources covered – I was going through the publishing process myself and learning about all the decisions and costs involved, plus I was already a freelance editor with several contacts to other editors that I could contract out, knew two cover designers on a friendly basis, and ran CLP Blog Tours and had a great relationship with many book bloggers. So I ....why not?

In August 2012, Marching Ink published the first novel not written by yours truly. The process of publishing Breaking the Rules by Cat Lavoie was such an experience. Sure, questions arose and there were some tough nights of number crunching, list-making, and second thoughts on what I was doing, but overall it was a fabulous experience and made me feel confident in my ability to find a great book that was a good fit for Marching Ink and get it out there in the world for readers. I don’t think I can ever thank Cat Lavoie enough for being my first author – she was amazing to work with (still is) and having her as a partner to bounce ideas off of made the entire process work so smoothly for the both of us.

Since then, Marching Ink has gone on to publish six novels, three from me, two from Cat Lavoie, and the debut from author Laura Chapman. We’re currently in talks to publish four more this year, and I’m always on the lookout for other terrific stories that we can sign. If you are an author and looking to query an independent publishing company, head on over to the Submissions page on Marching Ink!

Additional Links:Author's Web,  Facebook, Goodreads,
 Twitter @SamanthaMarch23 

 

 

 

    

 

 

 

 

 

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Author Jamie Salisbury Winner of Giveaway From Last Week's Blog On Sisterhood

 

Lovely earrings made by one of my good friends, Angela, from her Etsy shop

BerthaLousieDesigns
 

 

Thanks to those who left their comments on last week's blog post on sisterhood as part of WOW (Women On Writing) event for author Therese Walsh and her new book The Moon Sisters.  I've ordered my copy and can't wait to read it. If you missed the interview with Therese Walsh on WOW's The Muffin, click here to read it.

 

Jamie Salisbury's name was picked in the random drawing and I will be sending these darling earrings to her. Thanks Jamie for sharing with us and congratulations! FYI, Jamie is an author too. She writes contemporary and historical women's fiction, with a bit of the steam factor.  Check out her blog here. Jamie's book Life and Lies has been nominated for the 2013 RONE award.



 

Everybody's Talking About Sisterhood - (Giveaway And A Bit Of Bling)

A wonderful book, a bit of bling, and girlfriends. Does it get any better?

 

You could win these by leaving a comment below.

 

Join in the discussion of sisterhood and leave a comment below on 'sisters' in your life. On Friday I will do a random selection of a winner to receive the lovely one-of-a-kind rhinestone earrings pictured above and at the end of this post. They were made by my friend Angela and came from her Etsy shop. Winner will be announced here Friday afternoon. This is a giveaway on my blog. There are many others. Go to The Muffin  (Women On Writing) (click here) and read other bloggers comments and other giveaways.

Want to peek inside. Click here and go to Amazon.

I was thrilled to be invited to  the party to celebrate sisterhood and the release of Therese Walsh's new book, The Moon Sisters. I started to think about the women I am friends with and how much more than friends they are to me, they are family.

Sisterhood. The word makes me smile. My own little group of friends have helped me see the light in the darkest hours. Members of my 'hood' include my sister, my mother, and my girlfriends, both the new friends I've recently met, and my group of antique dealer buddies that go back as far as I can remember.

My sister and mother live in Florida. I am a widow. I don't have kids. Well, stop that. Sounds like a pity party! I do have six fur kids - six rescue dogs! The point of saying the above, is that I don't have family within a few hours of me who can show up if I need help. What I have is my wonderful friends, my family of gal pals. Each different, each surprising me in different ways. I hate to ask for help, but girlfriends know when to step in.

It was that band of merry antique dealers that helped me get back on my feet after my husband died. They refused to let me sit alone. As long as we'd known each other, we did our antiquing during the day, but were home with our spouses at night. These were my girlfriends - not couple friends with our husbands. The first year on my own, that loomed to be the worst year ever, took on a bit of magic under the care of my friends who would not let me sit alone. I wrote about that year in my book, The Unfaithful Widow.

Two weeks ago I had a hysterectomy for preventative reasons, my hysterical hysterectomy as I liked to call it. How does one cope with surgery and six dogs?  My life-style was about to change dramatically. How would I take care of my dogs? In fact, how would I take care of myself? While I am known to write about personal things, asking for help is the hardest thing for me to do.  I am usually the one in charge. I don't like to impose on friends. I'd forgotten that girlfriends don't let you sit alone. While I did hire a pet-sitter to come take care of the hounds, my girlfriends have brought me food, helped me with daily tasks - laundry, cleaning house.

A best friend, a sister, a group of wild antique ladies, a mother who still worries about me even though I am getting old (wink, wink - you figure the math!), I am lucky with friendships. We each have our own lives, but are there for each other when trouble brews.  Isn't that what family should be about? Hug your 'sisters' and keep them close.

Meet the author:

Visit Therese Walsh's website. 

 

In The Moon Sisters, her second novel, Therese Walsh wanted to write about one sister’s quest to find will-o’-the-wisp light, which was her mother’s unfulfilled dream. Also called “foolish fires”, these lights are sometimes seen over wetlands and are thought to lead those who follow them to treasure. Despite the promise, they are never captured and sometimes lead to injury or even death for adventurers who follow them. The metaphor of that fire – that some dreams and goals are impossible to reach, and that hope itself may not be innately good – eventually rooted its way into deeper meaning as the Moon sisters tried to come to terms with real-world dreams and hopes, and with each other, in their strange new world.

 

Olivia and Jazz Moon are polar opposites: one a dreamy synesthete, able to see sounds and smell sights and the other controlling and reality driven. What will happen when they are plunged into 24/7 togetherness and control is not an option? Will they ever be able to see the world through the other’s eyes and confront the things they fear the most? Death. Suicide. The loss of faith and hope. Will they ultimately believe that life is worth living, despite the lack of promise? 

 

The writing of The Moon Sisters was a five year journey and at times author Therese Walsh felt like it was her own “foolish fire”. But remember, some fires are worth the chase!

My giveaway on this blog only.

Remember to leave a comment below on the 'sisters' in your life and you may win these beautiful earrings made by my friend Angela. Random drawing on Friday. Every sister needs a bit of bling!