Category: Excerpt

My guest today on What Cathy Read Next is author April Howells whose debut novel The Unforgettable Mailman will be published on 21st April 2026 by Alcove Press and is available to pre-order now.

The Unforgettable Mailman is described as ‘a heartwarming story about intergenerational friendship and the power of human connection, perfect for fans of Fredrik Backman’. Personally it sounds really lovely but you can make up your own mind by reading the excerpt below.

About the Book

It’s never too late for the adventure of a lifetime, even if you can’t remember why you started.

1966, Chicago. Backlogged with millions of undelivered letters, the post office announces a temporary closure. But eighty-one-year-old Henry Walton can’t stand idly by when there’s mail waiting to be delivered. He believes letters are what keep people connected, and he’s not about to let them get lost in the chaos.

Plus, connection keeps the mind sharp – according to a note someone’s pinned up in his kitchen.

While the post office scrambles to get things under control, Henry races against time and forgetfulness. Taking it upon himself to deliver the mail, he discovers hatred and tragedy, triumph and joy in the letters he carries and the people he meets along the way.

Inspired by true events, this delightful story will linger with readers long after they turn the last page – and might just inspire someone to write a letter, the old-fashioned way.

Find The Unforgettable Mailman on Goodreads

Excerpt from The Unforgettable Mailman by April Howells

1

Thursday, October 13, 1966
10:03 AM

A note on the counter prompted Henry to shave every day. Another told him in faded ink that he should not, under any circumstances, try to use the iron. And one, scrawled on the back of an old paper bag, screamed CONNECTION IS CRITICAL TO KEEP YOUR MINDSHARP.

None of them explained where he’d put the stamps.

The letter to his son languished on the kitchen table, its bare corner a constant reminder of the missing postage. Leaning his cane against the wall, he tugged at the middle drawer. A squeal filled the room, expanded wood groaning at the disturbance. Shoving items out of the way— rusting scissors, loose matches, three rubber bands—he searched for the roll.

At the bottom, a fork stared up at him, out of place. There were no stamps.Henry’s chest tightened. Someone had stolen them. They’d climbed in through the window and taken them in the night. All he’d wanted was a light breeze, and now he was paying the price. The window would need to stay closed permanently.

And he would need to replace the pilfered roll.

---

The post office spanned two Chicago blocks. Henry took the steps oneat a time, careful not to trip. At the top, nine doors all led to the same lobby. He chose the third door from the left.

It was locked.

Moving over, he tried the next. By the time he’d checked all nine, his knee throbbed with the effort. Cupping a hand, Henry peered inside. Shadows floated through the expansive lobby, washing every thing out. With a huff, he tapped his cane on the window. The ting of wood on glass sounded hollow. Gripping the handle firmly, he banged louder: ten quick raps that echoed down the steps.

There had to be someone inside.

Minutes passed, and a dull ache pulsed its way up his arm. He lowered his cane, jaw clenched. Turning his back to the building, Henry took the first step, placing one foot down and then the next.

Behind him, someone grunted. “What?”

Henry spun around to find a rotund man in a security uniform leaning halfway out the door, drops of sweat dripping from his brow onto the limestone in tiny bursts.

“I need to buy some stamps.” Henry took the step again and moved toward the door.

The guard didn’t budge. “We’re closed.”

“Closed?” Henry repeated. It was the middle of the day.

“Yeah, closed. Shut. Not open.” Thick fingers wiped at a wet brow. Henry thought they looked like the sausages his wife, Elsie, liked to burn.

“I must be missing something,” Henry insisted, knuckles turning white on the handle of his cane. “I just need stamps.” It would only take a moment. No need to make a fuss.

“Like I said.” The guard dragged the words out, rather unnecessarily. “The post office is closed. There’s no one here to sell you stamps.”

Without waiting for a reply, the man squeezed his oversized body through the gap and slammed the door shut.

Henry watched him slouch away and tried to make sense of the news.

About the Author

April is a storyteller who finds heartwarming inspiration in little-known pieces of history. With a background in magazine publishing, she’s spent the last decade leading Global Internal Communications and Employee Engagement for premium apparel brand lululemon. Raised in southern Ontario, she now resides on the west coast of Canada with her husband and a Greater Swiss Mountain Dog named Chief. The Unforgettable Mailman is her debut novel. (Photo: Publisher website)

Connect with April
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My guest today on What Cathy Read Next is author Lynne Kaufman. And it’s a special day because Lynne’s latest novel The Oxford Affair is published today by Measure Publishing.

Kirkus Reviews describe it as ‘A story that joyously celebrates all things British and literary. The characters take cues from Hamlet’s play within a play and the detective novels being studied to try to expose all. A sprightly mashup that pays loving tribute to Britain and literary genres’.

To get a flavour of the book, you can read an excerpt from The Oxford Affair below.

For US readers, The Oxford Affair is available to purchase now from Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Bookshop.org.

About the Book

When Susan Klein arrives in Oxford to direct an elite adult summer school, she expects literary debates in a charming academic setting—not a body floating in the Thames. The victim? The college bursar. And the police have no suspects.

Enter Nelson Sinclair, a Southern restaurateur with a sharp mind, a courtly manner, and, as it turns out, a target on his back. As a prospective donor to the college, Nelson should be enjoying quiet afternoons under the historic spires. Instead, he’s dodging near-fatal “accidents” that seem ripped straight from the syllabus of the class he’s taking, The English Detective Story.

With danger closing in, Nelson convinces Susan to enroll in the course, and together they embark on a hunt for the truth—one that twists through Oxford’s cobbled streets, shadowy libraries, and secret societies. But as their investigation—and their undeniable attraction—intensifies, so does the peril. Could the murder of the bursar be tied to the threats on Nelson’s life? And if so, will they uncover the truth before it’s too late?

With wit, charm, and a dash of dark academia, this gripping mystery sweeps you into a world of cunning crimes, romantic love, and the timeless allure of Oxford’s dreaming spires.

Find The Oxford Affair on Goodreads

Excerpt from The Oxford Affair by Lynne Kaufman

CHAPTER ONE

“I loaf and invite my soul.” Walt Whitman

“Oxford. Picture yourself amidst the dreaming spires, part of an eight hundred year tradition of higher learning. Join a community of scholars. Live and study in a medieval college. Roam its ancient quads, its verdant gardens, its world class libraries. Discuss great ideas with your English don then break for tea in the golden Cotswold stone cloisters. Wile away an afternoon in a punt on the Isis or at a Shakespearean comedy or over a pint of bitters in an historic pub once frequented by C.S Lewis and J.R. Tolkein. And remember London is only an hour away about which Samuel Johnson opined, ‘When you’re tired of London, you’re tired of life.’

Inviting. You bet. At least it is to the more than one hundred American adults who plunk down their five thousand dollars for three weeks to become an Oxford scholar. I created CUOSS, an acronym for Coastal University Oxford Summer School. I wrote the copy, designed the brochure, marketed and administered it. And it is a major success. Ten years in the black. Continuing education is a business as I have explained to the occasional grousing enrollee and CUOSS is totally self supporting. So although we may not be a bargain we do give good value. And not only academically but socially, for you will be in the company of a bevy of self selected individuals interested in the life of the mind. The conversation over the three daily meals in Hall is bound to be stimulating. And who knows who might be sitting next to you?

I drop that hopeful innuendo especially when I’m talking to the single women of a certain age who make up most of our student body. It’s a pleasant, non pressured way to meet ‘new people’.

I, myself, know better. I have yet to meet an eligible man and I hold a very privileged and visible position. Susan Klein, M.A., the American Director of Studies. “You are so lucky”, students gush when they first meet me, “you get to come here every year.” “Yes, I have a great job,” I agree. But the operant word is ‘job’ and sometimes it gets old. But perhaps I am just cranky from being scrunched for ten hours between a bawling baby and a snoring septuagenarian. It would be wonderful to have the luxury of traveling business class. 

Yet as soon as the plane wheels hit the tarmac, all discomfort is forgotten and I am delighted to be back on English soil. Disembarking, I set my watch eight hours ahead to six am. Shouldering my carry-on, I trudge the winding corridors of Heathrow, go through customs, retrieve my suitcase and board the Express coach to Oxford. The gray high rises of London soon morph into the rolling green, sheep grazing hills of the countryside. I tilt my seat back and gaze out the window at a brilliant blue cloudless sky.       

Soon we are passing  the familiar landmarks.  Headington, Summertown and its Oxfam charity shop, the Fox and Grape pub with its hanging flower baskets, Boots the chemist, the all purpose superstore of Marks and Spencer, or Marks and Sparks as I’ve learned to call it.  Then Magdalen Bridge, pronounced maudlin, which crosses the Thames and borders Magdalen College and its deer park. Once past the baroque façade of St. Mary’s Church on the High the coach lurches to a stop and I head down the cobblestones of Magpie Lane, named for the denizens of the bordellos it once housed, who were said to chatter like magpies.

The more experienced the traveller the lighter the baggage, and I have managed to pack just one suitcase. Granted English weather is unpredictable, but all you really need is a light raincoat, a few jerseys, a pair of sensible shoes, and some casual cotton clothing you can layer. Except for high table that is. Attendance requires a jacket and tie for men and something comparable for women, which depending on age and inclination can range from tailored pants to an Armani cocktail dress. ‘Beware of any enterprise requiring new clothes’. Was that Emerson or Thoreau? At any rate, neither was a woman.

About the Author

Lynne Kaufman ran the Oxford/Berkley summer school for 25 years, and is the author of Slow Hands, Wild Women’s Weekend, Taking Flight, and Divine Madness. The Oxford Affair is her fifth novel and is currently in consideration for film adaptation. She is also the author of twenty full length, nationally produced and award-winning plays. Her short stories have been published regularly in McCall’s, Redbook, Cosmopolitan, and Good Housekeeping. She lives in California.

Connect with Lynne
Website