Tag: Excerpt

Blog Tour: The Start of Something Wonderful by Jane Lambert

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The Start of Someting Wonderful Blog_Tour

I’m delighted to co-host today’s stop on the blog tour for The Start of Something Wonderful by Jane Lambert.  You can read an extract from the novel below, a heartwarming and uplifting story about starting over and following your dreams.

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The Start of Something WonderfulAbout the Book (previously published as Learning to Fly)

Forty-year-old air stewardess, Emily Forsyth, thought she had everything a woman could wish for: a glamorous, jet-set lifestyle, a designer wardrobe and a dishy pilot boyfriend. Until he breaks up with her…

Catapulted into a mid-life crisis she wishes she’d had earlier, she decides to turn her life upside-down, quitting her job and instead beginning to chase her long-held dreams of becoming an actress!

Leaving the skies behind her, Emily heads for the bright lights of London’s West End – but is it too late to reach for the stars?

Format: ebook (364 pp.)                   Publisher: HQ Digital
Published: 5th January 2018            Genre: Fiction

Purchase Links*
Amazon.co.uk  ǀ  Barnes & Noble ǀ iBooks ǀ Kobo
*links provided for convenience, not as part of any affiliate programme

Find The Start of Something Wonderful on Goodreads

Extract from The Start of Something Wonderful by Jane Lambert

I AM BEGINNING TO WORRY. There’s a dark side to my character emerging that I didn’t know was there.

Whilst I’m naturally over the moon and grateful for this understudy job, as the weeks go by, I’m becoming a teensy-weensy bit frustrated. I know the part now, and whilst I may not have starred in my own TV series or graced the cover of celebrity mags, dare I say it, I think I could play the role just as well. Does that sound conceited? Day after day, week after week, the waiting, the hoping …

Wishing someone to be struck down with laryngitis or a mild tummy bug is one thing, but willing someone’s foot to get trapped in a revolving set is something else entirely. Evil. I’m horrified that I’m capable of such a thought.

I breeze through the stage door, clutching the latest copy of Hello! and a bag of Jelly Babies.

‘Evening, Arthur. Dressing room ten, please.’

‘Reckon you’ll no’ be havin’ much time for readin’ the night, doll,’ he wheezes, glancing at my magazine as he hands me the key.

‘Mmm?’ I say, signing in, then checking my pigeonhole, mind elsewhere.

‘It’s no’ for me to say,’ he says, hoisting a shaggy eyebrow.

I slowly start to climb the spiral staircase, calling in at the greenroom on the way for a brew.

‘Company manager’s been looking for you,’ grunts one of the lighting guys from behind his Autocar magazine.

‘Right. Thanks,’ I say breezily, spilling milk everywhere, my stomach dropping ten floors. Surely not? I mean, I saw Sophie barely two hours ago. I watched her performance from the darkness of the stage-right wings and she was on fine form, giving her ‘I-love-you-but-we-must-part’ speech.

It was at that point that I’d decided to make a break for it. Technically, I’m not supposed to leave the building until the curtain comes down, but I’ve religiously watched and mouthed every performance from the wings of Brighton’s Theatre Royal, to this, our final fortnight at The Dukes in Edinburgh. With just five minutes of the matinée left, what could possibly happen to her?

Mistake no. 1: leaving theatre early

Mistake no. 2: gorging on all-you-can-eat buffet

Mistake no. 3: succumbing to large glass of house red

Mistake no. 4: ordering garlic bread

Mistake no. 5: forgetting to switch on mobile phone

Mistake no. 6: arriving five minutes late for ‘the half’

‘… so, the silly cow’s been whisked off to A&E to have it x-rayed. You know what this means?’ says Simon, our company manager, running his hand nervously through his mop of unruly hair.

An eerie sensation ripples through my body. I feel a stab of guilt. My visualisation powers have taken on a telekinetic life of their own, like in some Stephen King horror film. I hadn’t intended anything serious to happen – just a minor ailment, something to lay her low for a week, a cold perhaps, allowing my agent sufficient time to arrange invitations and tickets for casting directors and producers.

I swallow hard and force my lips into a weak smile. There is an expectant silence. This is the stuff of Hollywood musicals: the leading actress is taken ill, and the understudy has to take over at short notice.

I can do it. I’ve been practising for months, says the heroine, with an assured toss of her pretty head. Bravo! More! A star is born! This is the moment I have waited for, longed for all these weeks, these seventy-two performances, so why do I now have this overwhelming desire to flee the theatre and catch the first National Express coach out of town? Well, apart from my all-consuming guilt, the auditorium will be packed to the rafters with legions of excited fans waiting to see Sophie Butterfield and her co-star, Rick Romano, give their highly acclaimed, headline-grabbing performances as star-crossed lovers, Constance and Enrique.

The fact that their on-stage passion has spilled over into reality has fuelled the public’s imagination. The House-Full sign is now a permanent fixture on the pavement, while armies of eager punters camp outside in all weathers, hoping for returns.

Exquisite pairing!
The chemistry between Romano and Butterfield
is electric. Beg, steal or borrow a ticket!
~ The Billingham Gazette

This romantic duo sets the stage alight.
You’d be mad to miss it!
~ The Yorkshire Evening Post

‘You up for it?’ Simon asks, knowing full well it doesn’t matter whether I’m ‘up for it’ or not. Why else have I been travelling up and down the country, getting paid £500 per week plus touring allowance? So I may sit in my dressing room, stuffing my face with Hobnobs and tea whilst reading trashy magazines, or to be allowed to finally finish reading Doctor Zhivago, which I started back in 2010?

Nah – if it’s all the same to you, Simon, I’d rather give it a miss.

Jane LambertAbout the Author

Jane was born in Yorkshire and brought up on the west coast of Scotland. She studied French and German at Stirling University, taught English in Vienna and travelled the world as cabin crew before making the life-changing (and slightly mad) decision to become an actress in her mid-thirties. She has appeared in “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time”, “Calendar Girls” and “Deathtrap” in London’s West End.

While hanging around as an understudy in draughty theatre dressing rooms and grotty digs on tour, she wrote her first novel, The Start of Something Wonderful, and has now discovered her true path in life

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The Fragile Thread of Hope by Pankaj Giri

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I’m delighted to shine the spotlight today on The Fragile Thread of Hope, the latest book by author and blogger, Pankaj Giri. Below you can find an extract from the book which illustrates the beautiful writing that’s earning The Fragile Thread of Hope such positive reviews.

I’m grateful to Pankaj for sending me a review copy of his book which I’m looking forward to see reach the top of my review pile soon – especially now I’ve read that extract!

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TheFragileThreadofHopeAbout the Book

In the autumn of 2012, destiny wreaks havoc on two unsuspecting people – Soham and Fiona. Although his devastating past involving his brother still haunted him, Soham had established a promising career for himself in Bangalore. After a difficult childhood, Fiona’s fortunes had finally taken a turn for the better. She had married her beloved, and her life was as perfect as she had ever imagined it to be. But when tragedy strikes them yet again, their fundamentally fragile lives threaten to fall apart. Can Fiona and Soham overcome their grief? Will the overwhelming pain destroy their lives?

Seasoned with the flavours of exotic Nepalese traditions and set in the picturesque Indian hill station, Gangtok, The Fragile Thread of Hope explores the themes of spirituality, faith, alcoholism, love, and guilt while navigating the complex maze of familial relationships. Inspirational and heart-wrenchingly intimate, it urges you to wonder – does hope stand a chance in this travesty called life?

Praise for The Fragile Thread of Hope

“Pankaj’s characters certainly evoke sympathy and throw light on important social issues. A good read.” (Chitra Divakaruni, award-winning bestselling author of The Palace of Illusions)

“An epic tale of love, loss, hope and faith that will remain with you long after the final page. With its lovely characters and beautiful prose, it ranks right up there with my favourites.” (Renita D’Silva, award-nominated bestselling author of The Forgotten Daughter)

“A literary masterpiece!” (Keshav Aneel, bestselling author of Promise Me A Million Times)

Format: eBook (408 pp.)                         Publisher:
Published: 29th October 2017                Genre: Contemporary Fiction

Purchase Links*
Amazon.co.uk ǀ Amazon.com
*links provided for convenience, not as part of any affiliate programme

 

Find The Fragile Thread of Hope on Goodreads

Extract from The Fragile Thread of Hope by Pankaj Giri

As the rented taxi wound its way through the meandering road alongside the mighty Teesta River, Fiona found herself gazing at the gorgeous landscape unveiling like a painting in front of her eyes. A thick veil of mist floated across the lofty hilltops. The sky darkened bit by bit as the overcast evening eased into night. A drizzle wiped the dust off dry leaves and moistened the parched mud all around her. A crisp gust of air sneaked in through the window and messed up her hair. After tolerating the heat of Siliguri, the breezy journey towards Gangtok felt like paradise. Despite having a gala time at a beautiful place like Goa, she realized – nothing beats the feeling of returning home.

Her focus drifted to a number playing on the local FM. It was an old Falguni Pathak song – ‘Tune paayal jo chhankaayi’. The singer’s first name triggered a wave of remembrance in her. A worm of unease wriggled in her stomach as her mind scraped a long forgotten past – Falguni was her first name once. All at once, an image invaded her mind, an image from her dark past, an image that still haunted her from time to time – the eyes, the bloodshot, glazed eyes, the eyes reeking of fury, the eyes belonging to the one who had wrecked the sapling of her childhood. The stench of alcohol, the stink ingrained in her memory, engulfed her as a bolt of near physical pain sliced through her stomach. A long-forgotten yet familiar disgust emerged in her.

She let out a sigh to disperse the painful memory. Her eyes then drifted towards Joseph. He was dozing, his spiky-haired head propped up against her shoulder. An aura of childlike innocence radiated from him. She gazed at her husband, the man who came into her life like an angel, the man who wiped away the blackness of her past, the man who taught her how to smile again. Slanting droplets kissed her lap, snatching her attention. As she looked out, she saw that the rain had picked up. A flash of lightning lit up the inky sky. She reached for the window crank and rotated it to close the window. As she sunk back into her seat, she saw that Joseph had woken up. He yawned, his mouth forming a big O. There was a hint of redness in his eyes. He yawned again, but this time she couldn’t help herself. She blocked up his gaping mouth with her hand. A mischievous smile beamed across his fair, clean-shaven face.

“Where are we?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

“No idea.”

“Near Kali Jhora, sir, forty kilometers away from Teesta,” the driver cut in.

“Oh.” Joseph yawned again.

“You’ll never learn, ni?”

“What?”

“Yawning with your mouth wide open… You’re so shameless.”

Joseph chuckled. Dragging her eyes to the view outside, she said, “Isn’t it beautiful, the lazy rain and the majestic hills?”

“Yeah…” His lacklustre reply irritated her. She glared at him. “Chya, you’ve become so boring nowadays.”

Joseph smirked. “C’mon, we’re not tourists. We’ve travelled this way so many times. I get bored watching these monotonous hills and this stupid rain.”

She hurled her gaze towards the scenery, annoyance swirling in her head like a wasp.

“As I hear the pitter-patter of the raindrops in these… umm… beautiful, no, gorgeous hills, umm…”

His husky voice drew her eyes towards him. He looked adorable as he struggled to search for words.

“My beautiful wife seems even prettier, umm—”

“Enough.” She laughed.

“Sorry, you know I’m not very good with words.”

“You don’t have to be.” She gazed into his gorgeous, chocolate eyes, and melted, like always, seeing the naked affection in them. She slid down in her seat, rested her head on his shoulder, and twined her arms around his.

“I love you,” Joseph whispered into her ears, caressing her arm with tender care.

She smiled, bliss seeping deep into her heart. “I know,” she said.

A deafening sound crashed against her ears. Something hit the vehicle from the left. The brakes screeched as the cab tilted towards the right. Suddenly, the world turned upside down. Her head hit metal with a clang. Through her blurred, upturned vision, she saw the vehicle sliding towards the edge of the cliff, the driver’s cries echoing in her ears. Fear gripped her, a fear like never before. As she sought Joseph, a piercing pain ripped through her leg. Then, as a slippery fish, her conscience slipped, blanketing her into darkness.

Pankaj GiriAbout the Author

Pankaj Giri was born and brought up in Gangtok, Sikkim – a picturesque hill station in India. He began his writing career in 2015 by co-authoring a book – Friendship, Love and Killer Escapades (FLAKE). Learning from experience and the constructive criticism that he got for his first book, he has now written a new novel, The Fragile Thread of Hope, a mainstream literary fiction dealing with love, loss, and family relationships. He is currently working in the government sector in Sikkim. He likes to kill time by listening to progressive metal music and watching cricket.

Connect with Pankaj

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